


Sirius Descending

by PadfootRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark Remus Lupin, Dark Sirius Black, Good Gay Boys, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Remus Lupin/Sirius Black - Freeform, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin - Freeform, They try to be edgy but are really soft, Werewolf Remus Lupin, lots of Remus and Sirius being disaster gays, some violence, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2019-11-29 00:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadfootRose/pseuds/PadfootRose
Summary: A Dark Marauders Au where despite Sirius being sorted into Slytherin and becoming a Deatheater, and Remus Lupin becoming a member of Fenrir Greyback's pack, the two boys still managed to wind up in the same place at the same time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone, here I am, once again, 84 years later with another Harry Potter fan fiction. Now, I hear you saying, but Rose, you haven't even finished your other ones, why are you publishing another one? And to that my answer is: no idea. 
> 
> But after talking to my friend Emmalee about the Marauders for like 5 hours, we came up with the idea for a Dark Marauders AU and I was struck with a sudden inspiration to write fanfiction the likes of which I have not felt in a long, long time. So here we are. I've been needing to make myself write more often and consistently and this is the way that I'm going to do it.
> 
> Remus and Sirius are both 18 in this fic. Instead of being sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius was sorted into Slytherin and followed in his family's footsteps. Remus was kidnapped by Fenrir Greyback and forced to join his back. They are both a little edgy, but also soft, because my traitorous hands will not allow me to write a completely evil Sirius Black. I have some ideas of where I want this fic to go, but I am also open to suggestions, so if there is anything in particular you would want to see, drop a comment.
> 
> I will try to update this fic as consistently as I can. Leaving comments and kudos definitely helps motivate me to write. I hope you all enjoy this new story!

Sirius Black paced back and forth across a dimly lit room, his footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. Absentmindedly, his hand scratched at the bandages covering the lower half of his left arm. He let out a huff of irritation and turned to face the door, glaring at its polished surface.

“Fucking werewolves,” he muttered, and turned to walk towards one of the chairs near the fireplace. He fell ungraciously into one, letting his arms rest limply splayed on the armrests, and kicked his feet up onto the footstool. If their guests couldn’t be bothered to show up on time, then he couldn’t be bothered to stand around waiting for them.

Even before becoming a “proper” Death Eater, he’d been stuck on werewolf duty. Getting the werewolves to join their side was something the Dark Lord cared about very much, but not enough to attend to the task himself. So it fell down the chain of command and landed in Sirius’ lap, because no one else wanted to deal with the excruciating task of trying to talk to the beasts. Technically, Sirius could pass on the duty to Regulus, but he’d rather ballroom dance with Fenrir Greyback himself before he let those monsters anywhere near his little brother. At just eighteen, he’d already managed to land himself the worst job in the group. 

Which left him waiting, yet again, for a meeting he knew would go nowhere. The werewolves, alongside being filthy and putrid, were also about as intelligent as the armchairs they rubbed their dirt-coated skin against. Sirius would make more progress talking to his wand than trying to get Greyback to string two words together. His reports back to Rodolphus were usually very slim and unhelpful, but he was forced to hold the weekly meetings regardless. It didn’t help that Greyback hated wizards, and took every opportunity he could to piss Sirius off, like showing up late or leaving deep scratches on the armrests, which Sirius would have to fix later, or risk his mother’s wrath.

He was just beginning to lament the fact that he’d have to de-flea the chair after the meeting was over when there was a soft knock at the door. Sirius slowly sat up straight, turning to look at the door with his brow furrowed. Never, in nearly a month of meetings, had a werewolf ever knocked before entering. Usually they barged in and threw themselves down on the nearest available surface, which wasn’t always a chair, and then proceed to start babbling without even an introduction.

Sirius stood and dusted himself off, unsure of what to do. He crossed his arms defensively in front of him, fingers brushing lightly against the wand tucked up his sleeve. “Come in,” he said, uncertainty making the statement sound more like a question than a command.

The door opened gently, revealing not Fenrir Greyback, or any other werewolf that Sirius had ever seen, but a boy who looked to be around the same age as him. The newcomer had curly brown hair, wild and unkempt. His skinny body was drowning in an oversized sweater with the sleeves rolled up in bunches around his elbows. It was worn and stained, matching the smudges of dirt on the boy’s skin. The most startling thing about his appearance were three jagged scars which ripped across his face, marring his otherwise handsome features.

Sirius, startled, found himself momentarily unable to speak, and simply gaped at the boy. Neither of them moved for a moment, eyes caught in a staring contest they had not consented to. Unintentionally, Sirius noted that the boy, despite the harshness of his appearance, had gentle brown eyes.

The boy looked down suddenly, breaking eye contact, and stepped a little further into the room. “I’m looking for Sirius Black?” he said, and his voice was as soft as his sweater must be. 

Sirius opened and closed his mouth uselessly for a second, and then shook his head, trying to regain his composure. “Where is Greyback?” he said, straightening his posture. The boy was taller than him, a fact that annoyed Sirius more than he’d like to admit.

“He couldn’t make it,” the boy said, raising his eyes from the floor. “Or he didn’t want to. Either way, he sent me to stand in for him during the meeting.”

Sirius groaned, eye twitching. As if the meetings were not already miserable enough, Greyback had decided they weren’t even important enough to show up to and was sending errand boys instead. Probably just to waste Sirius’ time, as if he didn’t do that enough already.

“And what are you, his pet?” Sirius sneered, annoyance creeping into his voice.

“I’m Remus Lupin,” the other boy replied, holding out his hand. “And I’m here to represent Greyback, so whatever you were planning to tell him, you can tell me.”

Sirius crossed his arms even tighter, trapping his hands against his body before he could do something stupid, like accept the offer for a handshake, even though a distractingly large part of him wanted to. “I’d rather not catch fleas,” Sirius said, nodding at Remus’ extended hand.

Remus frowned and pulled his arm back, mimicking Sirius’ posture instead. “That’s a shame, Greyback says the fleas love the taste of purebloods. That’s why he always leaves behind a few, just for you.”

“Greyback has a lot of nerve,” Sirius said. “And so do you, talking to me so casually. Greyback is one thing, but I’m not intimidated by a little pup like you.”

“No offense,” Remus said. “But I’m not very imitated by you either, Sirius Black.”

The starting match reignited for another moment before Sirius spun around and moved back toward the armchair. He took a seat again and watched as Remus perched gently on the edge of the chair across from Sirius.

“Greyback mentioned that last time…” Remus began, but was cut off before he could finish.

“Do you go to Hogwarts?” Sirius asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the boy and Sirius couldn’t quite place what it was.

Remus let out an exasperated puff of air. “We’re supposed to be talking about the….”

“What, are you in a hurry?” Sirius said. “I can’t imagine anyone would be in a rush to get back to Greyback. Just answer my question.”

Remus’ mouth tightened. “What happens if I don’t?” 

“We sit here until you decide to answer,” Sirius said, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “I have no desire to get back to my duties either.”

There was a beat of silence. “Fine,” Remus sighed. “I did go to Hogwarts. For a few years.” 

“They let a werewolf attend Hogwarts?”

“Shocking, I know,” Remus said. “Imagine that, a werewolf, right under your nose. Suppose you’ll have to burn your robes now.”

“I’m amazed no one found out. Dumbledore must have had quite the time sneaking that little secret past everyone,” Sirius said. Although his family hated Albus Dumbledore on principle, he couldn’t help have a begrudging respect for the man who was the only one the Dark Lord ever feared. Despite Sirius being a Slytherin, and from a family of pure-blood supremacists, the headmaster had never said an unkind word to him. “What house were you in?”

“Gryffindor. We has some classes together, on occasion.”

“We did?”

“Yes,” said Remus coolly. “Not that I’d expect you to remember, you Slytherins were always fairly self-absorbed and I kept to myself.”

Sirius strained, for a moment, trying to remember seeing Remus in any of his classes. A vague memory came to him, hazy and unfocused, of him lobbing large snail shells across the classroom to land in the Gryffindor’s cauldrons when the teacher’s back was turned. One shell successfully hit its mark, causing water to splash on the front of one student’s robes. Then those brown eyes, hard and full of anger, landed on Sirius, with the three large scars standing out starkly against pale skin.

He shook his head to banish the memory, but couldn’t dismiss the faint flush crawling up his neck. “You said you only went for a few years? You didn’t finish?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Greyback thought it was pointless for a werewolf to finish school and decided I’d be more useful as a member of his pack,” Remus said, and Sirius was struck by the heavy contempt in his voice. He felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, but didn’t let it show on his face.

“He has a point,” Sirius said. “An education is rather useless if you are going to spend your life pissing in the woods and killing people.”

The scars stood out more vividly when Remus’ face was twisted in anger. “Well,” Remus said, words tight. “Then you must not have needed to finish school either, since all Death Eaters need to know how to do is kiss the Dark Lord’s ass and die.”

Sirius tried to stop the laugh that bubbled out of his throat with his hand, but the sound slipped through his fingers, and it kept going. Though Remus tried to hold onto his anger, it collapsed under the barrage of Sirius’ glee. Soon he too was joining in and their laughter filled the dusty room.

Sirius took a breath and wiped at his eyes with his arm, a few more giggles escaping. “I mean, you aren’t wrong,” he said, lifting his head to grin at Remus. “Although sucking up to my professor’s to avoid detention did give me a lot of practice in ass kissing, so maybe my education wasn’t a complete waste.” Sirius leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his head. “You know, you are much more enjoyable company than the dirty wolves I usually have to talk to.”

“A boggart would be more enjoyable company than Greyback, so that’s not really a compliment,” Remus said.

“You really hate him, don’t you? You should be careful, I could tell him all the horrible stuff you’re saying next time I see him.”

A momentary flash of fear crossed Remus’ face, but it was quickly replaced with steely determination. “You won’t,” he said.

“I won’t? How can you be so sure?” Sirius said, smirking. “Being cooped up in here gets boring very fast, and I’d do anything to stir the pot a little.”

“You won’t because you want me to come back next time,” Remus said with cool certainty. 

“Bold of you to assume that.”

“No assumptions, just facts.”

“What about dear ol’ Greyback? I think I’d be just devastated if I never got to see his sweet hairy face again.”

Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius laughed, waving a hand lazily at him. “Okay, yes, obviously I’d sleep quite well if I never saw his ugly mug again. I won’t tell on you if it’ll keep you around. At least you don’t smell like piss. Well, at least not as much.” 

“I’m flattered,” Remus said. “Now, speaking of Greyback, can we get to what we actually need to discuss? If I don’t bring back any information you’ll be seeing a lot more of him.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Sirius said, leaning further back in the chair. “What does the dirty dog want this time?”

As Remus began explaining Greyback’s concerns, Sirius was only half listening. It was all information he had heard before, and what was much more interesting to him in the moment was contemplating Remus’ appearance. The boy really wasn’t too bad looking, for a werewolf, Sirius supposed. 

He nodded at the right times to keep Remus talking for a while and found himself steadily being lulled into a strange sense of calm as the minutes ticked by. Perhaps, he thought, these meetings weren’t so bad afterall.   
“Your arm is bleeding?” Remus said.

“What?” Sirius said, shaking his head to clear it.

“Your arm,” Remus repeated, pointing at the object in question.

Sirius looked down and saw that the bandages covering his left foreman were steadily turning red. “Shit,” he muttered, covering it with his hand. “Not again…”

“Again?” Remus said, getting up from his chair and taking a slight step towards Sirius. “Do you start suddenly bleeding out of your arm often?”

Sirius took out his wand and pointed it at his arm, but didn’t say anything. He had never been good at healing spells, which had never really been a problem before he’d gotten his mark. The damn thing had been bleeding on and off every since he had gotten it a few weeks ago. Some bleeding was to be expected, but he’d never heard of it going on for this long. “I can’t let the others see this,” he said, a tinge of desperation in his voice. 

He didn’t dare go to any of the other Death Eaters with concerns. He knew enough about the marks to realize what his was doing was not normal, and the last thing he needed was to be under more scrutiny. 

“Why?” Remus said.

“Mind your own business, werewolf,” Sirius snapped.

“It’s my business if you are going to bleed out all over the floor,” Remus said, taking another step closer. “Do you need help?”

“Like I would need your help,” Sirius said. “I want to keep my arm, not have it ripped off.”

Remus scowled. “Put away your stupid pride for long enough for me to fix it, or pass out from blood loss. Given how much you dislike werewolves, I highly doubt you want to be unconscious in a room with one. And I don’t really want to have to explain anything to your associates.”

While they had been arguing, the bleeding had gotten steadily worse. Sirius looked at his wand pointed uselessly at the wound. He knew there was nothing he would be able to do to stop it at this point, and taking a blow to his pride was preferable to the alternative. Grumbling, he stuck out his arm in Remus’ direction. “Try anything funny and you’ll be the next decorative rug for our fireplace,” he said.

Rolling his eyes, Remus came close to Sirius and took his injured arm in a light grip. Sirius felt his pulse spike a bit at the contact. “Vulnera Sanentur,” Remus said, moving his wand in quick movements. “Tergeo.”

After these words were said, the blood all rushed to one point on Sirius’ arm and then lifted up and into Remus’ wand, leaving the bandages as clean as they had been before. No new blood came forth and as far as Sirius could tell, the bleeding had stopped. He looked up from the wound to find himself face to face with Remus, who was also looking at him now. He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment there was the sudden noise of the doorknob being turned. 

Sirius, startled, yanked his arm from Remus’ grasp and looked to face the man standing in the doorway. The man had scraggly dark hair, dark circles under his eyes, and a frown etched permanently into his face. 

“Rudolphus,” Sirius said, dropping into a quick bow. “Can I help you with something?”

Rodolphus Lestrange was not looking at Sirius, but was fixing Remus with a steady glare. The werewolf took a step back from Sirius, pocketing his wand, and stared back just as intensely, mouth twisted into a grimace. “Black,” Rodolplus said, tearing his eyes from Remus to address Sirius, “I assume you’ve long enough to get what you need. Your presence is required elsewhere.” 

“Of course,” Sirius said quickly, making a move towards the doorway but stopping when he remembered Remus still standing behind him. He looked over his shoulder and caught Remus’ eye.

“I’ll let Greyback know everything went well,” Remus said with a curt nod, stiff and professional, but when he raised his head again, Sirius swore he saw a small smile. 

Sirius gave a nod in return and left the room, finding himself, despite everything, very much looking forward to the next werewolf meeting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, sorry for the late update, school has been kicking my ass. But thankfully I'll be all done with this semester by Tuesday so I'll have more time to work on this and update it more.
> 
> This update is at least pretty long, around 3000 words, whoops. Hope you all enjoy!

Remus Lupin stepped out of a fireplace, turning his head to watch the flames flare up quickly before dissipating entirely, becoming as barren as the rest of the house. Moving forward, he carefully maneuvered across a dilapidated living room. A large hole in the thatched roof allowed just enough moonlight through for him to safely avoid the obstacles of shattered glass and overturned tables on his way to the door. Why Greyback insisted on using this decrepit cottage as their one access to the floo network, Remus would never be able to understand. 

After a few failed attempts to pry the door open and an unsuccessful Alohomora, Remus let out a sigh and climbed up on the nearest window sill. With a tug, the window scrapped open just enough for Remus to slip his body through and land in the overgrown grass outside. Dusting himself off, he headed away from the cottage and towards the dark forest, letting instinct guide the way. 

As his feet moved, his mind wandered back to the meeting at the Black Family house. When Greyback asked him to take his place at the weekly meeting with Sirius Black, Remus had expected something much different. Someone older, perhaps one of Voldemort’s inner circle. 

Instead, he’d been greeted by a boy no older than him, someone he used to go to school with. At Hogwarts, it was difficult not to notice Sirius Black. Despite being a Slytherin, he’d always been loud and keen on bending the rules.

Remus never made it past his fifth year. Greyback took him from his father’s house during Christmas break, and Remus never saw Hogwarts again. It had been a shock to see a familiar face again after years of being surrounded by strangers. Sirius looked much the same as he had when they were still in school. Long hair, dark clothes, tattoos crawling up his arms.The only startling difference were the bandages, covering up a dark secret. 

It wasn’t surprising that Sirius Black ended up as a Death Eater. Given his family, it was only a matter of time. Still, something about it bothered Remus. While certainly annoying, and oftentimes arrogant and offensive, Sirius Black had never been cruel. To see a boy, whose worst crime was simply being a nuisance, branded with the mark of kidnappers and murders made Remus’ stomach twist uncomfortably. Perhaps Sirius changed in the years since Hogwarts and become the kind of person despicable enough to join the ranks of Voldemort’s legion. 

Yet, Remus couldn’t shake the image of Sirius, face twisted in panic, desperately trying to stop the bleeding but not knowing how. Nor could he forget the look they’d shared in that brief moment before Rodolphus interrupted. How relief spread like overturned ink across those stormy grey eyes. 

They weren’t the eyes of a killer. At least, not yet.

The sharp noise of a branch breaking startled Remus out of his thoughts. His head snapped up, nostrils flaring, to take in the area immediately around him. He caught the scent of unwashed clothing and piss in the air and turned to the left, zeroing in on the source of the smell. Poking out slightly from behind a tree was a small, dirt-covered foot.

Remus deliberately moved to face the other direction with a small smile. “Must have been nothing,” Remus said wistfully, listening closely to the small sounds of shuffling coming from behind him. 

Barely a moment later, he heard the quick crunch of leaves underfoot and then a weight was thrown onto his back. Mud-caked arms encircled his neck, trying to pull him downward. Remus went willingly, careful to aim his fall to hit the leaves and not the small body behind him. Looking up from his position on the ground he saw a small girl standing over him, hands on her hips in a triumphant pose. 

Not a single inch of her was free from filth. Her hair clumped to her head liked a matted bird’s nest, tangled with leaves and twigs. Two bright blue eyes shined out from a mess of cuts and earth.

“I got you,” the girl said with a smile, showing off her missing and stained teeth.

Remus laughed and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Yes, you did,” he said, returning her smile. “You’re getting better and better everyday, Freki.”

“Been practicing,” Freki said. She dropped low to the ground in a predatory stance, legs tucked up under her, ready to pounce. “Greyback shown me how. Said maybe I can come on the next full moon.”

Remus’ smile vanished at these words, but he was careful to keep the anger off of his face. He got to his feet and silently lamented the state of his pants, which were now stained. They were one of the few pairs that he owned and it would be hard to clean them under the watchful eye of Greyback, who hated the use of magic anywhere near the den.

“Maybe, little one,” he said, voice tight. “Maybe. Where’s Geri?”

“Didn’t wanna come,” Freki said, eyes narrowing and bottom lip pushing out in a pout. “He was with Alpha, told me to go out by myself. Never wants to play anymore.” Her hands started kneading the ground, pushing dirt into her already discolored nails. 

Remus’ frown deepened. The kids being left alone under the care of Greyback always made him anxious. “Why don’t you take me to where you saw them last? I need to talk to Greyback.”

“Why?” Freki asked, head tilting to the side. 

Remus could understand her confusion. It was common knowledge among the pack that Remus spent most of his energy trying to avoid talking to Greyback, or even being in the same general area as him. While that kind of behavior would be treated as treasonous in any other member of the pack, Remus was Greyback’s favorite, and he wasn’t questioned for fear of retaliation. 

“I actually just got back from a super top secret mission for him and I need to tell him about it,” Remus said. He looked dramatically from left to right, and then raised a finger to his lips. “You can keep it a secret, right?” 

Freki nodded her head quickly up and down, eyes going wide. “Of course I can,” she said, drawing two fingers across her lips in the mimicry of a zipper. “I’ll keep it so secret.”

Remus smiled. “I knew I could count on you,” he said. “Can I trust you to lead the way?”

“If you can keep up,” she replied, turning quickly on heel and dashing off further into the woods on all fours.

Remus broke into a light run to keep up with her, but didn’t mind the feeling of the wind rushing past and the occasional brush of a leaf against his cheek. His inner wolf craved for him to get down on the ground, to feel the earth lift up under his hands as he ran, smell the wet leaves under his nose. It was a struggle, but he remained steadfastly upright as he followed, fists clenched at his sides. The pull of the moon was always so much stronger the closer it got to the end of the month. 

It only took a few short minutes for the two of them to find where the trees began to thin and open up into a grassy clearing. Scattered around the open area were tents of various sizes and states of disrepair, placed precariously close to blazing fires. Men and women, dressed in rags and grime, danced around the fires, the flames dancing in their demented eyes.

Freki slowed as they entered the den, getting up on her two feet and holding a hand back for Remus to grab. He took it, feeling the mud slip from her palm to his, and allowed himself to be pulled along. As he passed, a few people around the nearest fires turned their heads in his direction, stares burning into him. In the brief flickers of light the fire provided, he saw blood lining their mouths and staining their hands. Savages, he thought, firmly turning his head away from them. Killing during the full moon was one thing, but to do so outside of its influence and without reason was pathetic. 

They weaved in and out of tents, heading towards the back of the clearing. Remus had a feeling he knew where they were going, and was proven correct when a familiar tent came into view. Outside of it, crouching on the ground in front of a smaller figure, was Fenrir Greyback. The werewolf’s eyes locked on them the moment they came into view, startlingly yellow and cruel. His gaze fell on Remus, who froze in place, until Freki’s eager tugging forced him to keep moving. 

Greyback stood and clapped a hand on the shoulder of the child next to him. His hands swallowed the boy, sharp nails resting over his heart. He gave them a grin, showing off dagger-like teeth. 

“Geri,” Freki yelled, letting go of Remus and running towards the boy. Remus felt suddenly defenseless, staring down the unwavering gaze of a predator. 

Freki tackled Geri, pulling him out of Greyback’s grip and onto the ground. Greyback chuckled, breaking eye contact with Remus to look at the two children rolling around on the ground. “Fiesty little wolves, aren’t they?” he said.

Remus didn’t reply, watching as Freki managed to get the upper hand and pin Geri underneath her. Geri glared up at her, twisting and turning in an attempt to break free. His dark curls bounced wildly as he shook his head, mouth pulled into an ugly grimace, twisting the deep scar on his cheek. Despite his best efforts, Freki remained unmoved. She smiled widely and looked up at Greyback for approval. 

Greyback laughed and clapped his hands, making Freki’s smile even bigger. “Impressive, little wolf,” Greyback said, holding out a hand for Freki to grab. She took it and allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. “Looks like we need to take you out on a hunt, give you a real challenge.”

Geri grumbled and got to his feet while Freki jumped up and down with excitement. He raised a small hand to his face and wiped it against the corner of his eye, mouth turned down in a frown.

“Geri,” Remus said, voice soft. The boy looked up, noticing Remus’ presence. Remus motioned him over and the boy approached him. Geri stopped in front of Remus and held out his hand, eyes firmly on the ground. 

Remus reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a single gold galleon, which he placed in Geri’s upturned palm. The boy’s small fingers closed around the coin tightly. He glanced up at Remus for a second, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his lips, before he took off in a run back the way that Remus had came. 

“You better follow him, Freki,” Greyback said, drawing Remus’ attention. Those yellow eyes were locked on him once more. “You two need to find something to eat, keep that energy up. Remus’ll join you after him and I have had a little chat.”

“Yes, Alpha!” Freki said, taking off after Geri on all fours.

Greyback walked over to the least weather-beaten tent and held the flap open, gesturing for Remus to approach. “Inside,” he said, and waited for Remus to walk over and enter the tent. Upon entering, he brushed past Greyback, feeling a shudder run down his spine as it always did whenever he got close to the other man. 

The interior of the tent was larger than outside appearance would suggest. It was the only magical item Greyback allowed in the den, besides Remus wand, which outside of missions he kept locked away. Inside was a large central area with haphazardly placed, mismatching seats circling a low table. An ornate, but worn rug covered the expanse of the floor, occasionally marked by holes. To the left and right were curtains hanging from the ceiling, separating off two rooms from the rest of the area. 

Behind the left curtain was Remus’ room, if it could even be called that. It contained nothing more than a simple cot and a small table, on which Remus kept everything he owned, including his clothes. The curtain was the one good thing Remus had in his living hell of his life, as it allowed him a small amount of distance from Greyback’s constantly prying eyes. Unbeknownst to the other werewolf, Remus had also placed a muffling charm on the curtain, allowing himself just a little more privacy.

Remus had lost the right to his own tent after his third attempt at running away. He had tried a few more times after that, but Greyback was a very light sleeper and their proximity made leaving the tent without the other man knowing nearly impossible. Greyback’s closeness made him itch, like fleas making homes inside of his skin, but he could do nothing about it. 

His last attempt, desperate and rash, began with him drugging Greyback’s food and attempting to slit his throat while he slept, and ended with Geri’s face being cut wide open as punishment. 

That was three months ago. 

“Sit,” Greyback said, taking his own seat in a plush, dirt-stained armchair. 

Remus sat and without prompting pulled out his wand and placed it on the table in front of him. Greyback picked up the wand and spun it with easy between his fingers, grinning like a shark. 

“So,” he said, kicking his heavy boots onto the table, “How was the pure-blood brat?”

Remus hadn’t expected to be asked about Sirius Black and floundered for a minute while trying to think of a response. What did Greyback want him to say? “He was fine,” Remus began, unsure if he was saying the right thing. At Greyback’s raised eyebrow, he continued on. “Rude, kind of arrogant. Annoying.”

Greyback chuckled. “That’s the one. You see what I have to deal with? Those uppity little purebloods. At least Black is fun to mess with. I can push his buttons so easily.”

A question had been nagging at the back of Remus’ head all day, and he decided it was the best time of any to voice it. “Why did you send me to go to the meeting?” he asked.

“I like to keep those Death Eaters on their toes,” Greyback said. “Mix things up a bit. Those meetings are so dull. It’s just me and Black talking in circles over and over, getting nothing done. Thought I’d give you a taste. Did you like him?”

Remus flushed slightly, but was careful to keep his face neutral even as he remembered laughing with Sirius in front of the fireplace and thinking the boy wasn’t so terrible, for a Death Eater. “Who?” he said. 

“Black,” Greyback said, fixing Remus with a piercing stare. Remus averted his eyes downward. “Figured you might like seeing someone your age, maybe make some more progress with him than I have. He’s a stubborn one.”

Out of everyone in Greyback’s pack, Remus was the only one his age. Geri and Freki were six, and all the other members were far older than he was. Most children didn’t survive Greyback’s conditioning long enough to make it to be a teenager. Remus was the anomaly. He’d escaped Greyback’s rearing thanks to the protections his father’s position at the Ministry awarded him, but Geri and Freki were not so lucky. Remus doubted, even with his best efforts, that they would survive to be anywhere close to his age. 

“Like I said before, he was arrogant, but tolerable,” Remus said, choosing his words carefully. “We discussed…” Remus paused, realizing that he and Sirius had actually discussed nothing related to the purpose of the meeting. He spoke about it, certainly, but Sirius had merely nodded his head and listened before they were interrupted by Sirius’ emergency. “We discussed the land issue,” he continued, racking his brain for some information to give. “I mentioned that you were unhappy with the land agreement the Dark Lord proposed and he said he would bring up the issues to Rodolphus Lestrange. Unfortunately Rodolphus interrupted us before we could discuss further.”

Greyback tsked and his eyes narrowed at the mention of Rodolphus. “Nosy git,” he said. “Always trying to listen in. Swear he keeps his ear pressed up against the door.” Greyback suddenly got to his feet, startling Remus. He slid the wand into the pocket of his black fur coat. “You did a good job, little wolf. I’ll keep that in mind. Run off and join the others, I’m sure they’ll be eating soon.”

Remus got to his feet, thankful that their conversation was over. He headed over to the entrance of the tent. As he was about to exit, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder and a hot breath against his ear. He froze under the touch, every muscle in his body tensing with panic.   
“What did you give Geri earlier?” Greyback said, voice low and steady.

“A galleon. Wizard money. He likes collecting them.”

Greyback hummed. “Don’t give those to him anymore. You understand?”

“Yes,” Remus said.

“Yes, what?”

Remus closed his eyes tightly, anger bubbling up inside of him. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Good.”

The pressure was removed from his shoulder and before Greyback could say another word, Remus left the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts on how the piece is going and what you think is coming next. Feel free to leave a comment! 
> 
> Also, I actually ended up doing a cosplay of Sirius from this fic. If you would like to see it and get more fic related content, feel free to check me out on tiktok. My username is @PadfootsRose and I'll be posting all cosplay content for this au under the hashtag #blackmoonau.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, sorry for the delay May was a crazy month, I took a trip to Japan and then everything was just wild after that. But I'm back and ready to write again, and I bring you this new chapter which actually ended up being way longer than I intended, around 5000 words, so I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> If you like it please leave a comment, it really inspires me to keep going and produce chapters faster!
> 
> Also if you would like to see more content for this AU, check out my Tiktok page @padfootsrose to see when I cosplayed this version of Sirius!

Sirius Black was experiencing the longest week of his life.

He’d left the meeting with the werewolf boy in a better mood than expected. Usually, he was annoyed and tense, hands itching to curse the smirk right off Greyback’s face. Yet this time, despite a frenzied ending, he couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of hope. Sirius hesitated to call time spent trapped in a room with a werewolf fun, but it wasn’t horrible. Despite his soft appearance, the boy, Remus, had a sharp tongue and quick wit. Having Remus give as good as he got was like having a long smoke on the balcony in his room - a rare moment of unapologetic rebellion.

Given the status of his family, people were usually too afraid to talk back to Sirius, leading to dull, lifeless conversations about nothing at all. He spent his whole life surrounded by arse-kissers. Around his parents and the other Death Eaters, Sirius needed to present an image of unquestionable obedience and servitude, but he itched with the urge to disobey, to cause chaos, to have anything happen.

He thought about Remus as he followed Rodolphus blindly through the halls of his house until they reached the dining room. Inside was a long, dark wooden table, covered in a red table cloth, draping over the edges like blood pooling on the floor. Lounging at the end with her feet kicked up onto the table and her wand twirling carelessly between her fingers was his least favorite cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Just the sight of her was enough to snap him out of his pleasant thoughts and make his stomach churn with disgust. Her hollow eyes locked onto him and a grin split her face like an open wound. Her feet hit the floor with a thud and before Sirius could react, she was in front of him, sharp nails digging into his cheeks and shaking his head roughly.

“Awwww, I didn’t know little Siri was going to be joining us! How exciting!” she said, completely ignoring the presence of her husband, who took a seat in one of the available chairs. “Baby’s first proper raid.”

Sirius grabbed both of Bellatrix’s wrists and pried her hands away from his face, scowling at her mocking tone. “What are you talking about?” Sirius said, pushing her away and taking a step back.

“The Dark Lord has chosen you to join us on our next raid,” Rodolphus said.

Sirius froze, scowl sliding from his face. “Join you?” he said, voice wavering.

“Of course,” Bellatrix said, interrupting Rodolphus before he could answer. She grabbed Sirius’ hand and pulled him into the nearest chair. He went without protest, his mind too busy trying to process the new information. Bellatrix stood behind him, fingers curled around his shoulders, mouth pressed close to his ear. “The Dark Lord wants you to prove yourself. The Dark Mark isn’t just another tattoo for you to add to your collection, dear cousin. It’s a mark of loyalty, and you need to show your allegiance to the cause.”

Sirius was not a fool. He’d known when making the decision to officially become a Death Eater that eventually the time would come for him to act like one. A part of him hoped that moment would have been further away, but there he was, facing down the repercussions of his choice.

“When is it?” he asked, voice steady despite the rolling nausea in his stomach. Although every part of him rebelled against the idea of attending a raid, he knew there was nothing he could do. Sirius was a lot of things, but a coward was not one of them.

“A week from today,” Rodolphus said. “You’ll do your little meeting and then we go. I expect you to do some preparations before then. Every day leading up to the raid you will join Bella and I for dueling practice in this room.”

“Dueling practice? But I . . .”

“This is not a test that you can flunk,” Rodolphus interrupted, eyes narrowed. “If you fail, there be dire repercussions. Understood?”

“Understood,” Sirius said, mind already elsewhere. He craved to be up in his room, alone, with the space to think.

“You’re dismissed,” Rodolphus said, waving a hand at the door. Sirius stood up, purposefully shoving his chair back with enough force to dislodge Bellatrix from her perch behind him, relishing in the soft noise of discomfort she let out. He left the room as fast as he was able, gaze downward as he walked, fists clenched at his side.

He failed to notice the presence of another person in the hallway until it was too late. His shoulder collided with something solid, sending him stumbling. There was a thud behind him, followed by a muffled curse. Managing to right himself, Sirius turned to see his brother, Regulus, sprawled out on the ground. A few inches from Regulus’ outstretched fingers was a massive black book.

“Sorry, Reg,” Sirius said, holding out a hand to help his brother back up. “Wasn’t watching where I was going. Looks like you weren’t either.”

Regulus took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. As he rose, Regulus’ sleeve slipped down, revealing his left forearm, pale and blank. The sight always strengthened Sirius’ resolve. His brother’s arm would never bear the blemish that his did, so long as Sirius was alive to stop it.

“I was distracted,” Regulus said, brushing dust from his black pants. “I’m sorry.”

“You and your books,” Sirius said, shaking his head. He bent down and picked up the fallen book, flipping it around so he could see the cover. Dust coated the surface in a light layer, interrupted by small fingerprints where Regulus held it. There was no title - at least as far as Sirius could tell - only strange black swirls and the embedded image of a skull.

Sirius made a move to open the book, but before he could, it was snatched from his hands. Regulus clutched it to his chest protectively, gaze averted away.

“You okay, Reg?” Sirius asked, concern coloring his tone.

“It’s just for school,” Regulus said, shuffling his feet. Regulus was on Winter Break and Sirius imagined his professors probably gave him a mountain load of work to do. Seventh year was rough, but Regulus had always been better at school than him.

“Ah, McGonagall still running you ragged? That woman is a spitfire.”

“Yeah . . .” Regulus said, looking anywhere but at his brother. The two boys fell into an uneasy silence.

Sirius struggled to come up with something to say. He rarely ever got a few moments to talk to his brother nowadays, but his mind was too full to have much room for anything else. Instead, he reached out and patted his brother on the shoulder, giving him an easy smile.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Sirius said. “Can’t let those grades slip, they’ll yank that Head Boy pin right off your robes, you know.”

Regulus gave him a quick nod and then slipped by him, disappearing around the corner. Sirius let out a sigh and went to drag a hand through his hair, but then remembered it was still up in the tight ponytail his mother forced him to wear. She absolutely despised his long hair, but the last time she attempted to cut it, Sirius cast a charm that caused it to grow at an alarming rate, until hair covered the whole room. The stunt had earned him a solid month of punishment, but afterwards his mother left his hair alone, only insisting he put it up while around the house.

Heart a little heavier, Sirius continued his journey towards his room, more desperate to get there than before. At one point, he heard his mother’s sharp footsteps echoing down the hallway and he ducked into an unused bedroom to avoid her, anxiety growing every second it took for her to pass.

A few minutes later, he finally turned the doorknob to his room, opening the door just wide enough for him to slip through before slamming it shut behind him. Sinking bodily to the floor, he put his hands over his eyes and rested his head against the wood behind him. His eyes stung, but he dug the heels of his hands into them to keep any tears at bay.

Sirius wasn’t a coward, and he wasn’t going to cry about his shitty life like a child.

He took a shaky breath, shook his head, and crawled over to his bed. He pushed aside the black duvet hanging over the edge and slapped his hand against the underside of the bed. For a while all he felt was smooth wood until his fingers pressed into yielding cardboard. Triumphant, Sirius pulled his prize from its hiding place and stood, clutching a carton of cigarettes in his hand.

Sirius got to his feet and walked over to his balcony, swinging the doors open while bringing a cigarette to his lips. Unsteady fingers held it still while he lit the tip with the end of his wand. Rather than crisp night air, his lungs filled with the pleasant burn of smoke. The trembling in his body steadily abated, vanishing like the smoke he blew between his lips.

He leaned against the railing, letting it take his weight. With his free hand, he reached back and pulled the hair tie out, letting his dark hair fall around his shoulders. He held the tie between his fingers examining it, before he dropped it over the edge of the balcony, amused, if only for a second, by its quick descent into darkness.

Taking a deep drag, Sirius relished in the false freedom. The railing of the balcony might as well have been prison bars for all the movement it allowed him. Was it worse, he wondered, to see what could be and not be able to have it, or to never have seen it at all?

Wind blew through his hair and cold air caressed his skin, but he was still as stuck as he’d ever been. Trapped not only by the wards his mother placed around the house, but also by the branded mark on his arm, by Regulus, by fate, by shitty luck, his own incredible stubbornness, and fear. He could have left, years ago, if he wasn’t so damn afraid.

He looked up at the moon, mostly covered by the thick London smog, and felt his thoughts wandering back to the werewolf boy from earlier. He felt a spike of jealousy. Even though it would mean being cursed to be a disgusting monster forever, in that moment, Sirius would have given anything to be able to run under that moonlight and let all his troubles fall away.

***  
Sirius was awoken the next morning by Bellatrix throwing open his door with a bang loud enough to rattle the picture frames in the hallway. She pranced over to his bed and leaned both of her hands against the mattress, her smile showing off her crooked and yellowing teeth.

“Wakey wakey, little Siri,” she cooed. “Time to go practice with the big boys and girls.”

Sirius gave her a bleary-eyed glare before deliberately turning over and away from her prying gaze. The only perk of being out of school and trapped in this hellish house was that if he didn’t have any Death Eater duties, he was allowed to sleep in. Damn if he was going to let Bellatrix take that away from him as well.

“Ohhhh, is little Siri tired? That’s so sad. Looks like he needs a little help getting out of bed.”

That was all the warning Sirius received before the covers were forcefully yanked off of the bed, causing him to be pulled off with them. He landed with a muffled curse on the floor in nothing but his sleep pants and a scowl.

Bellatrix offered out her hand to help him up, but he deliberately pushed it away and got to his feet on his own. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he grabbed his wand from under his pillow and gave it a half-heartedly flick, sending the sheets and blankets back into an orderly manner. He walked over towards his dresser without a backwards glance at Bellatrix, who had perched herself on the edge of the bed and was swinging her feet back and forth.

“Look at all those tattoos,” Bellatrix said, letting out a low whistle. “Does Mommy know you have all of those?”

Sirius grabbed an under shirt from the drawer and pulled it on quickly, covering up the spread of black ink across his back. He pulled a pair of pants from another drawer and then turned to face his cousin.

“Does your mother know that you shagged Alec Warwick the night before your wedding?” Sirius said, taking joy in watching the playful smile fall from Bellatrix’s face. “Leave so I can get changed, there are certain tattoos I’m saving for a very special someone, and I doubt you’ll want to see where they are.”

Grumbling, Bellatrix slid off of the bed and moved towards the door. “You’ve got five minutes,” she said with a sneer, before shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Five minutes,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, kicking off his sleep pants and pulling on a new pair. “Must be how long she takes to get ready every morning, the hag.”

He went through his morning routine, although faster than usual, pulling on a crisp dress shirt and forcing his hair up into a tight ponytail. He dragged a hand over his face and felt his stubble kiss his fingertips, but there was no time to shave. He gave himself a quick once over in the mirror, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, before he grabbed his wand and moved towards the door.

He threw open the door, slightly disappointed he didn’t hit Bellatrix on his way out, and headed down the hallway to the meeting room without looking back to see if he was being followed.

***  
The next three hours of his life were an exhausting hell. When Rodolphus said they’d be having training sessions, Sirius expected maybe an hour or so of aiming cruciatus curses and other harmful spells at a practice dummy of some kind, with Bellatrix leering over his shoulder commenting on his poor technique.

What Sirius had not been prepared was for  _him_ to be used as the practice dummy, forced to aim spells at himself and see how effectively they worked.

“How do you know you’ve cast the Cruciatus Curse correctly unless you’ve tested it on yourself?” Bellatrix jeered, before subjecting him to three rounds of said curse with glee.

 _Of course she tests it on herself,_ Sirius thought as he lay on the floor, twitching from the aftershocks of pain and breathing deeply. _Probably gets off on it, the crazy bitch._

“Straighten your back, followers of the Dark Lord don’t slouch.”

“You’re holding your wand incorrectly, it’s a wonder you even managed to make it out of Hogwarts.”

“Get up, Siri, it was only a little hit. Still lots more to come!”

Sirius limped out of the room hours later with Bellatrix giggling behind him. “See you same time tomorrow, cousin!” she jeered, giving him a cheery wave.

He shut the door firmly behind him and leaned against it, holding a hand to his steadily bleeding nose. Every inch of him ached, especially his back, from when he’d been hit with a Reducto spell and slammed into the wall. He could already feel the bruises forming along his thighs and arms.

Taking a breath, Sirius pointed his wand at his own face and struggled to remember the spells the werewolf boy had used on him the day before. Only one came to mind and he could only hope it was the one he needed.

“V-Vulnera Sanentur,” he muttered under his breath. His head jolted back from the force of the spell, connecting with the wooden door behind him. He let out a gasp of pain, letting go of his nose to rub at the back of his head. “Shit . . .”

Despite the new addition of his throbbing head, it seemed progress was made, as he no longer felt the steady trickle of blood from his nose. It would have to do until he could get back to his room and sort through the rest of his injuries.

On unsteady feet, Sirius started walking down the hallway, eager to be alone again. Before he could make it very far, there was a pop, and a wrinkled house elf appeared in front of him. Sirius cussed, coming to a halt. He placed his hand against the wall for support.

“What is it, Kreacher?”

Kreacher bowed low, the tip of his long nose brushing the wooden floor. “Mistress wishes to see Master Sirius in Master Orion’s office immediately, sir.”

“Father’s office?” Sirius said. “We aren’t allowed in father’s office.”

“Mistress is insisting, Master Sirius,” Kreacher said.

“Merlin . . .” Sirius groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. If his mother wanted to see him, the day was about to get a whole lot worse. “Alright, Kreacher, tell her I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, Master Sirius.” With another pop, Kreacher disappeared, leaving Sirius alone in the hallway again. He briefly toyed with the idea of making a stop by his room to at the very least grab some bandages, but decided against it. His mother would be expecting him as soon as possible and he didn’t want to invoke any more of her wrath by being late.

It was best to try to get the whole thing over with as fast as possible.

Minutes later he stood outside the door to his father’s office, unsure of what to do. He and Regulus weren’t allowed in the room as a rule and he’d never seen the inside of it. If he so much as stood in the hallway where the office was located, his mother was quick to sniff him out and punish him for his trouble. To stand there even now triggered a fight or flight instinct in him. He stamped down his desire to run and instead knocked on the door, figuring that would be better than simply throwing it open.

“Enter,” he heard his mother say from inside, her voice making his skin crawl with discomfort.

Sirius twisted the door knob and opened the door slowly, taking in the room for the first time in his life. The walls were painted a stormy gray and covered in various pieces of parchment and framed documents. Along the back wall was a massive bookshelf reaching from floor to ceiling, full of ancient looking tomes with cracked spines and fading paint. At the focal point of the room was a massive mahogany desk with curved legs, groaning under the weight of stacks and stacks of parchment and files. The whole room smelled vaguely of smoke, like a distant candle burning.

Behind the desk sat his mother in an ornate wooden chair, blood red fingernails curved around the ends of the armrest. His father stood beside her, one hand placed cautiously on the back of the seat. In front of the desk was Regulus, perched on the edge of the chair with his hands folded neatly in his lap, back ramrod straight. They caught each other’s gaze as Sirius entered the room, and in his brother’s eyes he saw nothing but fear.

“Sit,” his mother commanded as soon as he shut the door behind him, nodding towards the empty seat next to Regulus. Sirius obeyed, copying his brother’s posture and staring dead set in front of him, careful not to meet his mother’s gaze.

Walburga Black was a severe woman. Her features were sharp, from her slim nose to her pointed chin. Never to be seen without her makeup, her lips were stained red, her frown even more pronounced. Her eyes were surrounded by green eyeshadow, making her grey eyes pop, like approaching storm clouds. Powder made her skin pale as death, and on either side of her face two lines of blush gave her a mimicry of life.

“Your father has informed me that a book from his private collection has gone missing,” she said, her force eerily calm, words floating in the suspended tension of the room. “Would either of you care to tell us who took it?”

Neither boy said a word. Next to Sirius, Regulus’ hands were trembling. Sirius had a flash of memory of those same hands clutching at a book the day before, an odd book that Sirius definitely hadn’t recognized, and his heart dropped to his stomach. Sirius wished they were somewhere else, anywhere else so he could grab Regulus by his shoulders and shake him until he stopped doing idotic things, until he stopped making Sirius worry.

“I believe I asked a question,” Walburga said, pulling her wand from the sleeve of her dress and caressing the end with her fingers. “And questions require answers. Who took it?”

Sirius took one last look at Regulus, saw his shaking and the terror in his eyes, and opened his mouth. “I took it,” Sirius said, voice steady, locking eyes with his mother. “I stole the book.”

The silence that followed his statement was thick enough to choke. His mother’s frown curled into an ugly snarl, grip on her wand tightening. Regulus was shooting him a frantic look, eyes wide and unbelieving, opening his mouth as if he were about to speak. Sirius didn’t give him the chance.

“I thought it would be useful,” Sirius said, lies slipping from his mouth as easily as he breathed. “Rodolphus informed me that I’ve been selected to join him on the next raid, so I figured I better find some new spells, see what they did. I knew father is always collecting rare books, thought his office was a good place as any to find the information I was looking for.”

“Is that so?” his mother said, eyes narrowed. She got up from her seat and moved around the desk to approach the two brothers.

Sirius’ fingernails dug grooves into the armrests of his chair, heart beating faster as his mother got closer, but he forced himself to keep talking. “Yeah, so I snuck in, nicked a random book off the shelf, and tried to read it. No luck though, it’s in some rubbish language I couldn’t understand, so it was useless.”

“So I’m meant to believe that you went into your father’s office, knowing you weren’t supposed to,” his mother said, each word dripping slowly from her mouth as she moved to stand behind him. “In order to study a book?”

“Well, I was going to put it back,” Sirius said, shrugging with a confidence he did not feel. “Figured you wouldn’t notice it was missing, but I’ve seemed to have lost it. Disappeared right out of my room.”

“Siruis,” Regulus said. “I . . .”

“I’m very sorry, mother,” Sirius said, cutting off Regulus once again. His brother tried to catch his eye, but Sirius refused to look at him. “I shouldn’t have taken the book. It wasn’t my place and I swear I will never enter father’s office again without permission. I’m ready to accept whatever punishment you think is appropriate.”

His mother said nothing for a moment and simply stood behind him, like a shadow leering over his back. He didn’t know if his mother believed his lie or not, but it didn’t matter. She knew only too well that a punishment for one brother was a punishment for both, which made her disciplining them much easier. Sirius’ confession just made her decision more simple.

“Whatever punishment I think is appropriate?” she finally said, breaking the silence.

“Yes, mother.”

Sirius braced himself in his chair for what he was sure would be a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse; a punishment always delivered in the presence of his brother so that he not only had to experience the physical pain of the curse, but the emotional torture of knowing Regulus had to see him suffer. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but he’d already been under the effects of the curse earlier in the day, and he could tolerate it as long as it meant Regulus walked away unharmed.

But the spell never came. He heard the door open behind him and looked over his shoulder to see his mother holding it open, staring at him. “Come,” she said and walked out of the room.

Confused, Sirius turned back around to look at his father. “Follow your mother,” his father said, voice barely above a whisper, nodding his head in the direction of the door.

With hesitation, Sirius stood up from his chair. “Sirius,” Regulus said again, but Sirius ignored him and left, not having the strength to look at his brother again.

He followed his mother down the hallway and through the house, knowing better than to ask where they were going, but also having a rising fear that he already knew. His suspicions were confirmed when they turned down a narrow hallway, barren except for a single featureless door at the end. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, terror seizing every muscle in his body and making him unable to move. The last time he’d seen that door, he was a kid, and just the sight of it was enough to bring back every terrible memory, all at once, like they were fighting for space in his brain.

“Mother . . .” he said, voice trembling. “Why. . .?”

“It seems to me you still have that care-free attitude that I despise,” his mother said, standing at the end of the hallway. “You’re an adult now and a Death Eater. This foolishness rebellion has to end if you are going to represent our family. Clearly the usual methods aren’t effective enough and if respect cannot be beaten into your mind, then we must try other methods.”

“But . . .” Sirius said, but his mother was uninterested in hearing his protests.

“This is exactly what I mean,” she said. “Talking back to your elders, stealing from us, defiling your skin with horrid mistakes.” She flicked her wand and the door opened, revealing the room inside. She pointed one long finger at the open doorway, her gaze unwavering. “You will do as you are told, or I will have your brother join you.”

With that threat hanging in the air, there was nothing Sirius could do but force his body to move forward even as his mind screamed for him to stop. He walked past his mother and into the room, which was narrow and bare except for a large, slightly rusted black chest which shook slightly as he entered.

Walburga flicked her wand again, conjuring up a roll of bandages, a small basin with some water, and a cloth. “You have a few minutes before it will show itself, clean yourself up in that time. You are not to leave this room or ever walk through this house again in such an undignified state.” She took a hold of the door handle, closing it far enough that only a sliver of her was visible. “You’ll remain here for the rest of the day. Hopefully that will be long enough,” she continued, and then shut the door completely.

Sirius sank to the floor and grabbed the items she had left behind, undoing the roll of bandages as fast as he could while keeping one eye on the shaking chest. It took him only a few minutes to wrap up his various injuries to the best of his ability, and a few more to scrub the dried blood off of his face.

When he was done, he put his back up against the wall farthest for the chest and pulled his knees to his chest, hand clutching his wand so tightly his knuckles stood out stark white against his hand.

The chest gave one final rattle and with a loud bang the top flew open, causing Sirius to jump. He pointed his wand at the chest, trying to steady his shaky aim.

From out of the depths came one pale hand, curled around the edge of chest, a familiar black ring curled around its finger. Soon the rest of the body followed, revealing the image of Regulus Black. It wasn’t his real brother, Sirius knew, but it looked incredibly similar from his curled black hair to the scar on the back of his hand. There was one stark difference, however. On Regulus left arm was the twisted image of the dark mark, branded into his skin.

The Regulus stumbled out of the chest, eyes watery and faced stained with tears, one hand circled around his left wrist, making sure the mark was clear for Sirius to see. “Why, Sirius?” The Regulus said in a hoarse voice, coming closer to Sirius with each unsteady step. “Why did you let them do this?”

“R-riddikulus!” Sirius said, jabbing his wand in the direction of the boggart. The creature didn’t even pause, unaffected by his pathetic attempt at banishing it. Sirius had never successfully managed to get rid of a boggart, something his mother knew very well. It was hard for him to think of anything funny while faced with the culmination of everything he’d ever feared.

“You could have stopped them,” the Regulus said, it’s eyes going wide. “You could have stopped this!” The Dark Mark on the duplicate’s arm began bleeding heavily, sliding down its hand and dripping onto the floor. The Regulus screamed and fell to its knees, clutching at his bleeding arm, staring at Sirius with eyes full of desperate fear.

Sirius’ vision blurred but he swiped at his eyes and leveled his wand again, trying to steady his breathing enough to say the spell again. “Riddikulus!”

There was a sharp crack and the Regulus was gone, replaced by the figure of his mother, looming over where he lay crouched on the ground. She was taller, her nails horrifically long and her face twisted into a look of absolute disgust.

“Pathetic,” the boggart growled, sneering down at him. “Disgusting, bastard child. You are unworthy of being a Death Eater, unworthy to bear the Black family name. You stand in our house and wear our colors but you have never been anything but a mistake. You—”

“Riddikulus!” Sirius said again, flicking his wand in a desperate attempt to shut the creature up.

Another crack and the image of his mother vanished with a scream. Taking her place was a copy of Sirius himself, but it was all wrong. His hair was short, his arms were free of tattoos, and he had a sinister grin spread across his face. The other Sirius twirled his wand casually between his fingers, looking down at Sirius and shaking his head.

“You’re nothing but a coward,” other Sirius said. “If only you’d let yourself become what you truly could be. Your mother, your father . . . you wouldn’t have to fear them ever again if you just let go of your petty morals. No one would be able to stop you.”

“Shut up,” Sirius said, grabbing his wand arm in an attempt to steady it. His whole body was shaking and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think clearly.

“You let yourself be held back by fear. What are you so afraid of? Regulus becoming a Death Eater? What your parents would do to him if you ever had the guts to run away? Afraid you’ll turn out exactly how you always feared you would? That those dark thoughts lurking at the edge of your mind will one day make themselves heard?” The imposter crouched down until he was at eye level with Sirius. “Or are you afraid that you’ll slip up? That you won’t be good enough and your parents will see past all your pretending? They’ll see that deep down you’re just a scared child a desperate desire for freedom and a pathetic interest in a certain werewo—”

“Shut up!” Sirius said, clutching at his head and closing his eyes. He pointed his wand directly at the face of his copy. “Riddikulus!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, things have been crazy, but this chapter is like 15 pages long so I hope you all enjoy! This chapter is a bit of a dozy.

Remus Lupin stood in a clearing under the fading light of the setting sun. Vibrant shades of red and yellow colored the canvas of the sky, alighting the trees like the most incredible of forest fires. Across the field, Geri and Freki ran after each other in dizzying circles, rolling around in the beds of wildflowers and letting their laughter fill the air.

Remus could enjoy none of it. He watched the day fade away like a man next in line for the guillotine. Around him, members of the pack shifted restlessly in anticipation, impatient, but Remus felt every second tick by like weights being added to his shoulders.

He pulled against the collar of his shirt, itchy and rough against his skin. Despite everyone around him being stark naked, Remus was stubbornly clothed. It was a rather futile exercise since as soon as the transformation began, the fabric would be torn to shreds and scattered across the forest floor, costing him another piece of clothing he couldn’t afford to lose. However, it was the only thing Remus could control on nights of the hunt, so he clung to the ill-fitting fabric as if it could block out the force of the full moon and spare him from its curse. 

The pack’s eager movements came to a halt as Greyback moved to stand in front of the group. He let out a sharp whistle and the young wolves came bounding back to stand in line with the others, Freki wiggling in excitement. Greyback grinned and spread his arms wide, gesturing at the forest around them. 

They were far from the den in unfamiliar territory with miles and miles of trees in every direction, at least as far as Remus could tell. Greyback felt that each full moon should be a unique and unforgettable experience, so every hunt he found new land for the pack to explore.

“Soon,” Greyback began, watching the pack hang on to his every word, “the moon will rise and the hunt will start. Tonight we will be as we were truly meant to be, wild and unstoppable, one with our inner beasts once again.” He paused and gestured Geri and Freki to his sides, placing a large hand on each of their shoulders as he spoke. “Tonight is special for our youngest members; their very first hunt. A defining moment of every werewolf’s life. They might have experienced the transformation, but nothing can compare to the exhilaration of being free on the full moon.” 

The pack cheered at these words, clapping and stomping their feet. Remus stood at the end of the line feeling utterly powerless, unable to stop Greyback’s decision to let the children join them. Remus hadn’t been forced to experience his first hunt till his was fifteen, and even at that age he’d almost been killed. Geri and Freki were just children being made to try and survive the night. 

“Geri, Freki,” Greyback said, bending slightly to get closer. “Stick with at least one other member of the pack and don’t wander too far off. Anyone we can’t find in the morning gets left behind, understood?”

“Yes, Alpha,” both children replied.

“And if you do manage to catch anything, or anyone, you bring it back to me, understood?” 

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Good,” Greyback said, releasing his hold. “Tonight, you become proper members of the pack. Now everyone, spread out and prepare for the change.”

It was as if the pack had been held in place by invisible ropes, but at these words were cut free. The pack split, bounding off in different directions towards the shadows of the trees. Greyback gave Remus one last look before he left, taking off across the clearing with Freki trailing not far behind him. 

Only Geri and Remus were left in the clearing, watching as the sun disappeared from view, leaving darkness in its wake. Remus wanted to give the young wolf some advice on what to do, share his knowledge about the best ways to get through the hunt, but his own fear kept the words caught in his throat. Even if he made Geri swear to stay by him, neither of them would be in their right mind enough to keep that promise. The wolves would go were they wanted to go, uncaring about the desires of their human halves. 

Offering the only comfort he could, Remus remained with Geri in the clearing as the moon began its ascent. Remus was unable to look away as the moon came into view, seeing nothing but its blinding light. Under its gaze, Remus’ pupils dilated wide and the white of his eyes bled into a vibrant yellow. He yelped like a wounded pup and feel onto his knees, digging his fingers into the soft dirt as the transformation took hold. 

Every inch of Remus screamed out in pain as his body began rearranging. His fingers snapped like twigs between each knuckle, breaking into pieces before knitting together again. Newer, longer. Each of his fingernails darkened and grew into sharp, black claws, sinking easily into the earth. A cracking noise filled the air, the sound of each vertebrae of his spine bending into an unnatural shape, hunched and monstrous. Tears poured from his eyes, sliding down the morphing flesh of his face to sting the open wound his mouth had become; a mess of empty gums and quickly growing fangs. He fell prone on the ground, whimpering in agony as the bones of his legs lengthened and bent, jutting out at strange angles. He heard a rip and the last clear thought he had before closing his eyes was that he really would miss his shirt.

When his eyes next opened, they were the fierce golden eyes of a wolf, like glowing lanterns in the darkness of the night. He slowly lifted himself onto his paws, stumbling briefly, limbs long and unfamiliar. He raised his snout towards the sky and took a long sniff, catching the scent of crisp forest air, pine trees, and dirty fur. 

He snapped his head to the side at the sound of rustling just in time to see a smaller wolf bound off into the forest on his left, letting out an echoing howl. He huffed and pawed the ground. Some part of him felt like he should follow the small wolf, keep close to it. But another part itched to run off in the other direction as far as he could, find somewhere he could hunt alone and unburdened. 

After a moment of indecision, he grew restless from lack of movement and ran in the direction the other wolf had gone. He would keep his distance, but be close enough to hear if anything happened. 

The wind blew through the trees, ruffling the leaves and the fur on his face, like a mother’s hand upon his cheek. Nothing could be more right than the feeling of his paws on the earth and the tight embrace of the trees around him. The forest was as much of a home as he’d ever had, offering him a freedom seldom found in the rest of his life. 

He galloped through the trees, playfully biting at fireflies as he passed, following the smell of the younger wolf with no real sense of urgency. The smell was strong enough that it was easy to follow and Remus could enjoy his run. He stopped occasionally to rub himself against the rough bark of a nearby tree or roll in a puddle of mud along the way. Every piece of the forest offered something new for him to explore, interesting smells and sounds to discover.

Not long after his run began, he came across another break in the trees, a small clearing illuminated by the light of the moon. In the middle stood a deer sniffing at the ground, facing away from the direction where Remus approached. His mouth watered at the sight, fangs itching to bury deep into the poor animals neck and tear. He could already taste the tangy blood on his tongue, feel the flesh sliding in pieces down his throat. The twisting hunger gnawing at his insides would be sated by the deer’s death. 

He lowered himself to the ground, furred chest brushing against the dirt, and tensed his muscles, preparing to attack. He hoped the deer ran. He loved the chase, loved to weave in and out of the trees at a furious pace and be rewarded by finally getting teeth into his prey and ripping them apart.

Just as Remus began to lunge, a large crack ripped through the air, startling both him and the deer. Before Remus could react, his prey ran towards him and jumped over his crouching body, disappearing into the trees in seconds. Remus growled and turned around, ready to give chase to the animal, but was stopped again by the sound repeating itself. A sharp crack, followed by muffled yelling, coming from somewhere further in the forest.

And then another sound, barely audible, but echoing in Remus’ ears; a small whimper. He spun around, kicking up dirt with the force of his movements, and bolted in the direction of the noise, a low growl rumbling in his throat.The trees were a blur as he passed them, nothing but smears on a canvas. In the air, he smelt blood, like rust on his tongue. 

He broke through the line of trees and found himself on the shore of a lake. He lifted himself off of his front paws and onto his back legs, standing at his full seven foot height, snout twisted into a snarl. 

In the shallow end of the lake was the smaller wolf, up on his hind legs but crouched partially in the water, trembling. Standing near him were two men with guns carefully aimed at the wolf. Across their bodies were rows and rows of gleaming silver bullets, and two more guns strapped to each of their hips.

The small wolf whimpered again, backing away from the men and further into the water. He had a hand pressed tightly against his arm, but even from a distance Remus could see a trickle of blood escape from underneath. He turned his head and saw Remus standing at the tree line, eyes widening, revealing the deep scar cutting up the side of his mouth. The pathetic noises increased in volume, burrowing into Remus’ ears and igniting the fire in his heart.

Geri. The name flashed across his mind, bringing with it images of a dirty young boy, small but wild, riding on top of Remus shoulders through the den, laughing wildly. And that same boy, but wounded and crying, clinging to Remus’ arm as Remus gently stitched up his face.

“Hold still, you damn thing,” one of the men shouted, moving closer to Geri. He fired off another shot, the sound making Remus’ blood run cold as he watched the bullet speed towards Geri as if time had slowed. Remus roared, a deep, guttural sound, and ran towards the man who had fired, red seeping into his vision.

It only took him two quick strides to close the distance between them, not giving the man any time to react. In seconds, Remus had his claws in the man’s chest, tearing through cloth and then flesh with ease. The man’s screams were drowned out by the echoing sound of Geri’s cries. The fur on his hands quickly became wet with blood, but he kept ripping, unable to stop.

Suddenly, something sharp pierced through his chest. Remus gave a startled yelp and rolled off of the body underneath him, landing on his back on the ground. He looked down at his chest to see a hole right next to his heart with a brief glimpse of silver poking out, and blood staining his fur. His whole body lit up with a burning pain, as if his blood had suddenly become molten lava in his veins. He twisted in agony on the ground, clawing at his own skin, trying to rip the pain out of his body with brute force.

Above him, the other man stepped into view, face twisted in rage. He pointed his gun directly above Remus’ heart. When he spoke, his voice was wet and his hands shook. “You bastard, I’m going to kill you and you won’t --”

Before he could finish his sentence, large claws came out of the darkness, sliding across the man’s throat in one quick motion, sending blood spraying in an arc in the air. The man crumpled to the ground next to Remus, eyes unseeing. Blood flowed from his neck, spreading across the ground. Remus felt the warm liquid press up against his arm, but couldn’t move to get away from it.

Remus turned his head enough to see another wolf towering above the scene. The wolf was charcoal grey and huge, twice Remus size and large enough to make the towering trees around them seem smaller. Alpha. Familiar yellow eyes fell to Remus and the large wolf’s mouth lifted into an angry snarl, showing off his stained fangs. With one swipe, the Alpha wolf pushed the hunter’s body out of the way. Remus heard the sound of crunching leaves as the corpse rolled away.

A new wave of pain wracked Remus and his body twisted in agony. He cried out and felt the Alpha lower to the ground beside him. He felt the wet press of a nose against his side as the wolf sniffed him, followed by another growl. Remus felt his vision start to blur. He could have sworn he felt another wet nose press against his arm on his other side, but he couldn’t focus long enough to be sure. He felt his body being lifted off the ground and the last thing he saw before closing his eyes was the blinding light of the full moon.

 

***

 

Sirius Black was collected from his room the morning after his punishment by Bellatrix, who threw open the door with a manic grin. Sirius, slumped against the wall and bleary-eyed, jumped at the sound. He looked up at her for only a moment before letting his eyes shut again, curling further in on himself.

Bellatrix cast a glance sideways to see the dead body of Regulus Black lying on the floor, blood seeping from his open mouth, eyes dull. She scoffed and flicked her wand carelessly, sending the boggart flying back into the open chest, lid closing behind it. 

“Regulus dying, really?” Bellatrix said, skipping over to where Sirius sat on the floor. “That’s not a very interesting fear, is it? I was hoping to see something more exciting.”

“Sorry my brother dying isn’t exciting enough for you,” Sirius mumbled. “Next time, just for you, I’ll make sure my personal hell is a little more creative.” 

“How sweet,” Bellatrix said mockingly, wrapping a hand around Sirius’ forearm and yanking him to his feet. Putting weight on his legs made the whole world sway and he had to bite his lip until it bled to stifle the noise of pain that threatened to escape.

“Don’t touch me,” he grunted, pushing Bellatrix’s hand off of him and steadying himself against the wall.

“Looks like little Siri’s already got lots of boo boos,” Bellatrix said, bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “But we can’t stop practicing just because you got put in time out, so it looks like we’ll have to add a few more. Are you going to be a big boy and come with me?”

“Shut up,” Sirius said, voice tight. He closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and pushed himself off the wall and towards the door. His muscles screamed in protest, but he gritted his teeth and moved onward, out of the room and down the hall with Bellatrix following close behind him.

The rest of the week passed with a similar routine. Sirius would be woken up horribly early by Bellatrix and dragged off to his training sessions, where he’d be beaten within an inch of his life under the guise of learning. Afterwards, he’d drag himself back to his room, patch his injuries, and pass out until he was forced downstairs for dinner. Then the next day would have the whole vicious cycle start again, with the only change being the increasingly drastic measures Sirius took to avoid having to talk to his brother. 

Regulus had tried to corner him multiple times since Sirius’ punishment, but Sirius wasn’t interested in discussing anything. If Regulus wanted to apologize or explain himself, Sirius didn’t want to hear it. Any reason his brother gave would change nothing about what happened, and Sirius wasn’t keen on getting told once again that Regulus could fight his own battles and didn’t need anyone to cover for him. Sirius might have regretted a lot of things in his short life, but protecting Regulus was never one of them.

It didn’t help every time Sirius saw his brother afterwards he had flashes of soulless eyes, bleeding arms, and a debilitating guilt that constricted his lungs. He kept his eyes firmly on his plate at dinner, took alternate routes back to his room after training, and had successfully managed to avoid Regulus for the better part of a week.

On the worst nights, Sirius often found himself contemplating the benefits of following the ash falling from the end of his cigarette over the railing of his balcony and onto the hard ground below. 

He was so preoccupied with preparing for the raid and what it would entail that Sirius completely forgot that the werewolf meeting was supposed to take place beforehand. It felt like months rather than days had passed since the last meeting; any anticipation he might have had for it was buried underneath mountains of stress and pain. 

He was reminded of it the day before when Rodolpus pushed him from the training room with a careless shove and the parting words, “I will retrieve you after your little chat with the werewolf. Be ready.”

Sirius made it back to his room and collapsed onto the bed, mind swimming. As he stared at the blank expanse of his ceiling, he let himself think back to the week before. Although he wanted to deny it, the last time Sirius remembered laughing or genuinely smiling was with the werewolf boy, Remus. The meetings were usually the worst part of his week, but for a few moments Sirius had felt relaxed; an unusual feeling, given most of his time was spent tense and alert. 

Being around someone his own age, even if it was a werewolf, had been like the first breath of fresh air after a fire. Since graduating from Hogwarts, he very rarely saw anyone in the same age range as him. Regulus was only one year younger, but he was also his brother, and didn’t count. Sirius had taken for granted being surrounded by his peers at school, and only realized how much he craved that connection after spending months surrounded by older Death Eaters and his parents. It was suffocating to be constantly on guard - back straight, shoulders back, chin up - every single day of his life. 

Inside that meeting room, the pressure had vanished, like a noose rope snapping. He didn’t need to impress Remus. The other boy was on the same level as him, just a pawn, just an object to be moved around by the whims of Greyback. It had been too long since Sirius was left alone in a room with someone he didn’t feel like he had to pretend for. 

Sitting up quickly in bed, Sirius rounded up those runaway thoughts and shoved them into the back of his mind, trapping them under lock and key. It was stupid to be feeling hopeful about something so pathetic. Was he really so desperate for company he’d look forward to spending time with a monster? 

Not thinking about Remus only allowed for thoughts about the upcoming raid to fill the gap, and Sirius fell asleep to visions of death.

The next morning, Sirius woke early, but of his own accord as Bellatrix did not come to collect him. His body felt tired, but his mind was wide awake, and despite his best efforts he could not go back to sleep. He rolled out of bed and padded over to his wardrobe, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He pulled open the doors and instinctively reached for the nearest shirt, but hesitated with his fingers brushing the sleeve.

He let go and instead knelt down to look at the bottom of the wardrobe where a rectangular box lay. It was black with gold trim around the edges. He lifted the lid, revealing a neat stack of shirts. The sleeves were folded tightly across the chest like a corpse. He removed each shirt carefully and placed them by his side until only one was left. Tucking this shirt under his arm, he put the others away and sealed the box back up. 

After grabbing an undershirt and a pair of pants from his dresser, Sirius went into the bathroom, placed all the items on the counter, and hopped up to sit next to them. He leaned in close to the mirror, taking in the damage a week’s worth of neglect had done to his appearance. The bags under his eyes might as well have been tattoos for how permanent they seemed, and were complemented nicely by the fading purple bruises on his cheeks. The stubble on his face had grown into an unflattering, patchy mess, spreading high up on his jaw and lower down towards his neck. Once sleek, styled hair lay in limp tendrils around his face.

Sirius couldn’t remember looking this terrible since the night after he got his mark.

Shaking his head, Sirius set to work. It would hardly do to show up a professional meeting in such an uncomely state. That was the reason he told himself, at least, as he ran Sleakeazy’s styling gel in thick handfuls through his hair. Definitely not any other reason. 

An hour later, he was finally finished. He pulled on his pants and undershirt in quick succession, and then slowly slipped into the dress shirt. The material slid across his skin like air and fit his body like a glove. He did up the buttons, leaving the top three undone, and then stepped back to assess his reflection. 

He ran a thumb over his chin, admiring the new shape of his facial hair. It had been particularly tricky to get the shape he’d wanted, forcing him to cut and regrow it over and over until he was satisfied. A masking spell covered the worst of his sleep deprivation and injuries, and his hair had life to it once more. 

The shirt was one of his favorites. Black with a subtle swirling pattern and shining silver buttons. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing the unbandaged dark mark on his arm. The mark hadn’t given him any trouble in the past few days, and for the first time in weeks he’d been able to leave it uncovered. Whether that was a relief or not, Sirius really couldn’t say.

He finished the look by slipping a chain around his neck. The pendant, a spike made of pure silver, rested against his bare skin. He smirked to himself and adjusted the chain until it lay the way he wanted. The werewolf boy was sure to be annoyed by the new addition, and Sirius found he rather liked the idea of getting Remus riled up and annoyed. 

After another few minutes of preening, Sirius finally left the bathroom and stood in the middle of the room. He realized he was fully dressed and prepared for a meeting that wouldn’t take place for another few hours. Feeling rather foolish, Sirius took a seat at his desk and kicked his feet up, letting out a sigh. His eyes roamed over to a stack of papers on the surface, notes Rodolphus always gave him before each meeting so he knew what to discuss. Usually, Sirius pushed them carelessly into the bin without a second thought. Notes wouldn’t help when Greyback decided to be irritating and useless, which was most of the time. 

Sirius grabbed the papers and began flipping through them, telling himself it was simply a way to kill time, even as he took note of everything written down and committed it to memory.

 

***

Three hours later Sirius paced up and down the length of the meeting room, throwing glances at the door every so often. Upon first arrival, he’d taken his usual seat, but nerves quickly had him up and moving around, unable to sit still. Whether the anxiety stemmed from the nearness of the meeting or the upcoming raid, Sirius couldn’t tell, but his stomach had twisted itself firmly into knots.

Technically, the meeting should have started ten minutes ago, and with each second that passed Sirius grew more and more restless. The meeting was the only thing he’d been even remotely looking forward to for a week now and precious seconds of it were slipping away far too quickly. 

Being stuck waiting left him with nothing to do but begin to question everything. He suddenly felt stupidly overdressed, standing there in his nice shirt with his hair down and the scent of his expensive cologne clogging the air. I look like an idiot, he thought. Like that damn wolf is going to care what I’m wearing. I should go back and change. Do I still have time?  
Sirius’ panicked thoughts were cut short by the sound of the door handle being pushed. He spun around to face the door, shoulders tense and hands frozen at his side. The door began to open and Sirius sprung into action, leaping over the arm of the chair and landing legs askew on the cushion. He attempted to shift his position into something seemingly more relaxed and casual, and plastered a casual smirk on his face. 

When the door fully opened, the smirk vanished, for standing in the doorway was not the lanky, sweater-clad figure of Remus Lupin, but the hulking, hairy form of Fenrir Greyback. 

“Expecting someone else?” Greyback said with a toothy grin, kicking the door closed behind him. 

Sirius felt frozen, every muscle seized in panic. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His body felt heavy, like it was full of thick tar, and any words he wanted to say were stuck in the sludge. It took every bit of his effort to force out a small, unconvincing “no,” so quiet he wasn’t sure Greyback even heard it. 

Greyback’s grin grew broader as he sauntered over to the seat across from Sirius and threw himself down, kicking his mud-caked boots up onto the coffee table. His yellow eyes raked up and down Sirius’ body, taking in his appearance. “You get all dressed up for lil ol’ me? You shouldn’t have.”

“As if I would make any effort for you,” Sirius replied without any real fire behind the words, attempting to focus on the conversation and not on the heavy disappointment creeping through his chest. “I’m joining a raid after this meeting, if you must know.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure that’s the reason,” Greyback said, unrepentant. “I didn’t realize the Death Eaters left all their important responsibilities to children these days.”

Sirius bristled a little at the jab, but remained still in his chair, body slumped into the couch cushion, eyes staring unseeing at the wall behind Greyback’s head. “Like you’re one to talk,” Sirius said. “What with you sending . . .” Sirius trailed off and shut his mouth, silently berating himself. He’d be damned if he gave Greyback the satisfaction of bringing up Remus and the other boy’s absence from the meeting. 

But Greyback saw the opening and took advantage against Sirius’ wishes. “My own little wolf, yes. I was so busy last week,” he said, waving his hand lazily as if to indicate his many responsibilities. “Couldn’t even find the time to come to our little chats. I was devastated.   
Luckily little Remus could take my place, sure you didn’t mind the change of pace. How’d you find him?”

“He was . . . fine,” Sirius said, unsure of what exactly he should say, but knowing it couldn’t be the truth. 

“Interesting. He said something similar about you.”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek firmly to stop himself from asking what else Remus had said about him. That would be giving Greyback exactly what he wanted. “I don’t care what your pet thinks about me, Greyback,” Sirius said, as flippantly as he was able. “We have more important things to discuss, anyway. These meetings aren’t here for us to play catch up with each other.”

“These meetings are about whatever I want them to be about, brat,” Greyback said, leaning forward quickly in his chair, his boots hitting the ground with a loud thud. 

Sirius didn’t react to the movement, but only because he dug his fingers into the seat to prevent flinching. Greyback stared him down, waiting for Sirius to show any sign of weakness. Sirius remained stubbornly still and unblinking. After a moment, Greyback moved back and resumed his sprawled out position on the arm chair. 

“Fine, go on,” Greyback said, looking away from Sirius and picking dirt from underneath his nails. “Give me whatever information that coward Rodolphus wants you to tell me.”  
Sirius went over the information he read in the documents earlier as if on auto-pilot. While he talked, his mind was far away, wallowing in a pool of self-pity and anger. He was stupid to think that Remus would be coming back for the next meeting. He’d no reason to believe that aside from Remus’ word, and what good was the word of someone who worked for Greyback anyway? What value did the promise of a monster hold? Sending one of his minions to get Sirius’ hopes up and then tear it away seemed like exactly the kind of thing Greyback would do. 

Maybe Remus was in on it and had known the whole time he wouldn’t be coming back. That thought, more than any of the others, made his chest feel hollow, like his heart had dropped to his stomach. It was stupid of him to have been hopeful, a mistake he wouldn’t be repeating again.

The meeting seemed to drag on from there, with Greyback only making things worse with his crass attitude and acute sense of exactly what to say to send Sirius spiraling again. By the end, Sirius felt both mentally and physically exhausted, like he had climbed a mountain and not just sat in a room and talked for fifty minutes. 

And Greyback, of course, couldn’t simply just leave Sirius to stew in his mess of volatile emotions without getting one more remark in. As Greyback stood the doorway about to walk out, he looked over his shoulder at Sirius with that irritating smile of his. “I’ll let Remus know he was missed,” Greyback said, and then shut the door before Sirius could retort. 

Sirius fumed as he waited for Rodolphus to come and collect him. All he could picture was Greyback and Remus sharing a laugh over how pathetic Sirius was, the idiot little pureblood who thought he might have made a friend. He put his hair up into a tight ponytail and ripped the necklace off, shoving it deep into his pocket. He buttoned his shirt up to the top and sat hunched over in the arm chair until he heard the door open.

Rodolphus didn’t say a word, simply gesturing for Sirius to follow him as he began walking away. They arrived at the training room a few moments later and inside stood not only Bellatrix, but a grouping of three other Death Eaters Sirius vaguely recognized. They all turned to look at him as he entered, Bellatrix with terrible glee and the others with expressions of mixed curiosity. Being a member of the ancient and most noble House of Black garnered him a basic level of respect, but his age and inexperience often left him under intense scrutiny. 

Sirius fell in line next to the others as Rodolphus began briefing them on what was to be expected. They were targeting Flourish and Blotts, a popular book store which as of late had taken to secretly producing anti-Death Eater propaganda. They were to tear it apart, destroy everything they could, and kill whoever was responsible for this slight against their cause. The attack would serve as a warning to any others who decided it might be a good idea to try to defy the Dark Lord. 

While Sirius didn’t think defying the Death Eaters was a crime worthy of death, he also couldn’t feel particularly bad for the owners who had to know it was suicidal nowadays to speak up against the Dark Lord. With how much power their cause was gaining every day, only fools would try to rise up against them. Now, they would pay the price, and Sirius, whether he wanted to or not, would be a part of it.  
“Prepare yourselves,” Rodolphus said, ending his speech and pulling out his mask. The other Death Eaters followed suit, pulling their masks from their robes and covering their faces.   
Next to him, Bellatrix produced another mask and held it up in front of Sirius’ face with a grin. 

“You look better already,” she said, laughing as Sirius snatched the mask from her hands and turned it around so he could look at the design.

Since he was a new Death Eater, his mask was rather plain. Just a plain silver mask with only two swirls, one on each cheek. As he continued to rise up the ranks and gain more experience, more and more designs would be added, until his history was written on its surface. 

Sirius put on the mask, hating how it settled against his skin, leaching the warmth and making it harder to breathe. It felt constricting, like a prison, but also like a shield. There was now a layer between him and the rest of the world, a barrier which separated him from everyone else. It was a strange comfort to feel like he could hide behind the mask, that it could distance him from what he was about to do.

“Go,” Rodolphus said, disappearing with a snap of sound. The other Death Eaters quickly followed suit. Sirius felt a vice grip around his upper arm, sharp nails digging into his flesh, and then the ripping sensation of Apparating as he was pulled away from his house and towards the destruction ahead. 

 

***

 

When they landed, the chaos had already begun. Sirius stumbled out of Bellatrix’s grip, catching himself on the edge of a table nearby. All around him was noise, screaming, high-pitched laughter, and explosions. Scorched parchment rained down around him like snow flurries, obscuring the view of moving bodies and the bright light of spells being cast. The air around him smelt like fire and burnt paper, like destruction.

“Join the fun, cousin!” Bellatrix squealed from somewhere to his left, and Sirius shook his head, gathering himself, and then pushed deeper into the shop. 

He found a staircase and ran up it quickly to get away from the mess on the lower floor. He stood at the top of the stairs and faced the untouched shelves of books laid out before him. He remembered standing amongst these very shelves not too long ago, picking out his school books with his mother looming over his shoulder, commenting on how the curriculum at Hogwarts had drastically decreased.  
Sirius leveled his wand at the shelves and before he could back out, shouted, “Reducto!” The spell hit one of the shelves with a startling crack, sending an explosion of paper and broken bits of wood in every direction. The shelf groaned, shook, and toppled backwards, hitting the one behind it with a bang.

Sirius let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, looking down at his steady wand. The destruction had felt . . . good. Really good. Relieving, even. He let off another round of the spell, hitting another set of shelves, and watched as a row of them came falling down, creating a pile of debris. 

Gripped with a startlingly strong sense of freedom, Sirius let loose on the room, casting spell after spell, ranging from explosions, to fires, to severing charms, breathing heavily against his mask as the store fell to pieces around him. 

When he could do no more damage, Sirius moved further into the shop. He came across another room and leveled it as well, seeing Greyback’s stupid smirking face in every pile of books he exploded, his mother’s ugly sneer in every table he set aflame, Remus’ concerned eyes in the walls he blasted holes through. He would destroy them all, he had the power. He moved like a man possessed, unstoppable and without regret. The crack of the flames and Bellatrix’s crazed laughter filled his ears, driving him forward. 

He came across the final room in the very back of the store, a small office stacked floor to ceiling with books along the walls. Sirius raised his wand, ready to tear it down, when he noticed movement under a large desk in the room. 

“Stop hiding,” Sirius said with as much bravado as he could muster. “Reveal yourself.”

After a moment, there was more movement, and a man crawled out from underneath the desk. His whole body was shaking as his stood and turned to face Sirius, hands raised on either side of his head. The man was wearing a green tweed suit and too-large round spectacles which slid down the end of his nose. Sirius recognized him vaguely as one of the owners of the store who had sold Sirius some of his textbooks.

“Please,” the man said, voice trembling. He took a pleading step towards Sirius, who leveled his wand at the man’s face. “Please don’t kill me, I –“

“Shut up,” Sirius said, cutting the other man off. The high of destruction was receding as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him empty and shaken. “What are you still doing here?”

“I-I can’t leave,” the man said, holding out his hand pleadingly. “My shop . . . It’s all I have . . .”

“Your shop is destroyed,” Sirius said. “And you’ll be dead soon if you don’t leave now.”

“I can’t . . . I can’t leave . . .” The man backed away from Sirius, huddling in on himself. “Please . . .”

“Merlin,” Sirius groaned. “Fine, then. Die if you want.”

Sirius aimed his wand at a shelf a little ways away from where the man stood, deciding to ignore him. Sirius could only hope the man would gain some sense and flee before the other Death Eaters arrived and wonder why Sirius hadn’t killed him yet. In the meantime, Sirius would continue what he was doing before and destroy the room like he was supposed to.

Just as he was saying the spell, he heard shouting from the doorway. Bellatrix ran in, dragging a woman behind her by the arm. Surprised, Sirius turned to look at her, but not before the spell was already cast. The light shot from the end of his wand and hit the bookshelf next to the man, exploding upon impact. Sirius threw his arms up to protect his face as paper and chunks of wood flew in his direction.

As the dust settled, Sirius lowered his arms to take in the damage, and then took a horrified step back. The book shelf he’d struck had fallen over onto the floor, right where the man had been standing. Underneath the fallen shelf, there was a hand poking out and a slowly spreading puddle of blood.

“Avada Kedavra!”

There was a thud behind Sirius and then the sound of skin dragging against wood. Bellatrix appeared at his side and tossed the body of the woman she had been holding next to the fallen bookshelf. The woman landed sprawled out of the floor, leg bent at an unnatural angle, eyes wide and empty.

Bellatrix threw her arms around Sirius’ shoulders and pulled him against her body. He went without resistance, still staring at the bodies. Bellatrix laughed and spun him around, jumping up at down with excitement. “Oh, look at you!” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “I didn’t know little Siri had it in him! I’m so proud!”

As Bellatrix continued to celebrate, Rodolphus entered the room, taking in the scene before him. “We need to leave, now, before the Aurors arrive. Grab him.”

“Of course,” Bellatrix said, letting go of Sirius to return her hand to his arm. “Time to go back and celebrate!”

As Sirius was pulled into the spinning void after Bellatrix, the only thing he could see, as clearly as if they had never left, was a spreading pool of blood and a pair of soulless eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Sorry about the long wait, I started up school again and it's been kicking my butt :( But, I have an extra long chapter for everyone to make up for it! I hope you all enjoy! Our boys are finally seeing each other again after so long!

Remus Lupin spent the next three days falling in and out of consciousness. On the rare moments he found himself awake, his vision swam in and his head pulsed like a throbbing vein. His chest blazed with fire and his mouth felt rough and dry, like sand filling his throat. For a second, he’d see the hazy silhouette of a face above him and feel the brush of a palm against his forehead, warm and familiar, before succumbing to the pain once more.

On the fourth day, his fever broke. He woke to find himself damp with cold sweat, swaddled in a nest of pelts and worn blankets. Around him, the air smelled of perspiration and wet fur, like a wolf after a hunt. He groaned and rolled onto his side, hissing as the change in position aggravated his injured chest.

With a little finessing, Remus managed to untangle himself from his cocoon and sit up. He swayed slightly with the effort, but held onto the edge of his cot for support and managed to remain upright. He gingerly placed his feet on the carpet, flexing his toes against the soft texture.

It was immediately clear that he was not in his own little room in the tent, but had been placed in the common area. The table and couches had been pushed aside to make room for the bed, surrounded by scattered empty bowls, swathes of bandages, and empty potion bottles. It looked like the most chaotic hospital Remus had ever seen, which seemed appropriate considering where he was.

Remus looked down to take in his condition and frowned at the sight. While his uncovered skin had never been an especially pretty sight given his many scars, it now looked even worse. Thick, slightly blood-stained bandages wrapped around his chest and over his shoulders. Below that, bright yellow and sickly purple bruises spread across his stomach and down his legs. When he attempted to turn his body in either direction, a sharp pain shot up his back, stopping him from moving very far.

Despite every inch of his body protesting the movement, Remus got to his feet with a pained grunt. His vision went fuzzy for a second but he held still until the room stopped spinning, digging his fingernails into the meat of his palms to steady himself. With care, Remus attempted to take a step forward, and then another, until he was shuffling his way across the room towards the table nearby.

On the surface of the table was a scattering of random objects. At one end there was a metal tray, rusted and dirty, on which there was a blood-stained rag, an ancient-looking medical clamp, and a lump of something silver. Upon closer inspection, Remus realized it was the bullet that had torn through his chest; the cause so much pain now sitting harmless on the tray.

Without really knowing why, Remus reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over the surface. His skin tingled on contact, like his fingers were falling asleep. In wolf form, it would have seared his skin. Another reminder of the line between him and the beast within.  
Although part of him was tempted to pick it up, he turned away and moved towards the other end of the table, where a small pile of clothes sat. There was a moth-eaten shirt, a pair of boxers, and a tattered pair of pants. Remus grabbed the last two items and made his way back to the cot to sit down. As much as he hated the idea of walking around half-naked, trying to pull on a shirt with the current pain in his shoulders would be more tortuous than it was worth.

As he dressed, Remus watched the rough fabric cover the bandages on his legs, mentally preparing himself to find a fresh wave of scars whenever his dressings were removed. Werewolf healing was really quite incredible; a bullet wound could heal in days, a deadly gash in mere hours. But there was always evidence of the injury left behind, a history of pain etched into the skin.

A mouthwatering smell wafted past his nose, drawing Remus out off his dark thoughts. A heady mix of cooking meat and smoke. His stomach audibly groaned, reminding him of the fact he hadn’t eaten properly since before the full moon. He would kill - quite literally - for any sort of food at the moment.

He followed the smell out of the tent and towards the middle of the camp, blinking to adjust his eyes to the bright light of the sun. As he walked, he felt the eyes of the other members on him. He did his best to ignore them, only allowing a brief glance as he checked to see if Geri was among them. Although most of the events of the full moon were a blur, he distinctly remembered the small form of Geri, shaking in the shallow of the lake, and the sound of gunshots. Although he took his time walking to the campirefire, he did not see a sign of the little wolf anywhere.

Cooking over the fire in the middle of camp was a large deer carcass, skinned and slowly roasting. Around the fire sat a few people, but no one Remus was looking for. Ulva, an older woman with greying, dreaded hair and crooked teeth, acknowledged his approach by nodding her head towards a spot next to her, and then turned her attention back to cutting off pieces of meat and handing them to the others.

Spurred by his twisting hunger and desire for information, Remus sat on a log nearby and waited for Ulva to finish. She got to him last, holding out a sizeable chunk of meat in his direction. He took it with his bare hands with a mumbled world of thanks, feeling the skin of his hands burn under the heat of the food.

He dug in without hesitation, tearing the meat to pieces with his teeth. It was messy and crude, but there had never been room for good manners in Greyback’s pack. They ate without speaking, wolfing down the food with intensity. Taking time to enjoy your food usually meant giving others the opportunity to take your food, so Remus was trained to eat at quickly as possible.

The meat helped to calm the rumbling of his stomach. After he was finished he let himself slide down to sit on the ground and leaned his back against the tree trunk, letting the food settle. Part of him hungered for more, but he knew that after days of not eating, trying to shove too much food into his stomach at once would only make him sick.

He looked up at Ulva, who was still gnawing on her food, and figured she was the best person to talk to out of anyone there to find out what he needed. She wasn’t the kindest person, but she had never been outright cruel to him.

“Where is Greyback?” he asked, getting straight to the point. Any attempt at small talk wouldn’t be appreciated, and would most likely hurt his chances of learning anything.

“Out,” she replied, voice like claws against a tree. “Lookin’ for some information or somethin’. Be back soon.”

Remus already found it very strange that Greyback had left him alone and unattended in the tent, but it was even stranger to learn he’d also left the camp. Usually, Greyback kept tabs on him like a hawk at all moments of the day, even when he was out. Were his injuries so severe Greyback didn’t expect him to be able to leave the tent? Or was what Greyback left for so pressing he didn’t care?

“Did a good job patchin’ you up, didn’t he?” Ulva said, finally looking over at him.

“Amarok usually does well,” Remus said, running an absentminded hand along the bandages covering his chest. Amarok, the pack’s “healer” was a strange, but usually effective, man who took care of all the members when they get hurt, which was frequently.

“Oh no,” Ulva said with a shake of her head and a crooked smile. “Alpha fixed you up all by ‘imself. Wouldn’t let anyone else touch you.”

Remus’ hand froze, resting over the wrappings on his shoulder. Suddenly, the bandages felt very different under his fingers, less like tools for healing and more like bindings, tight against his skin.

“Greyback was the one to help me?”

“Yes. Was very insistent he be the one to do it.”

Remus always felt somewhat uncomfortable in his skin, but now he felt the violent urge to start tearing it off in fistfuls in order to distance himself from the contaminated touch. Although his skin was cleaner than it had been for a while, he felt dirty and stained. He remembered in his fever-filled daze feeling a warm hand against his forehead, gentle and soothing, and he shuddered. How had he taken so much comfort in the touch of a monster?

Remus shook his head and shoved his confusion to the back of his mind to deal with at another time. Dwelling on it now would only send him spiraling, and that was the last thing he needed.

“What about Geri?” he said, changing the subject and motioning to the camp around them. “Do you know where he is?”

“Went with Alpha,” Ulva said with a shrug, turning her attention back to the fire.

Remus felt relief at the knowledge that Geri was alive, but also uneasy about Greyback having taken the small wolf with him. First Greyback brings the boy along on the night of the full moon, and now he is taking him along on other business outside of the grounds. In Remus’ experience, nothing good ever came out of being the focus of the alpha wolf’s attention. He would try to get the boy alone when he returned and question him about Greyback’s activities, and do his best to make sure Greyback wasn’t steering him down the wrong path.

With his hunger and curiosity sated for the time being, Remus decided to remain by the fire while he waited for Greyback’s return. The crackling sound was soothing and the warmth felt like a heavy blanket. He let himself drift and shut his eyes, not sleeping, but resting for a moment.

Eventually Ulva left without a word and a few others followed after her, but Remus remained. It was rare, these days, to have any moment where he didn’t feel Greyback’s piercing gaze on the back of his head. Even rarer for him to feel comfortable enough to remain amongst the other wolves and not immediately retreat back to his tent. For once, he would enjoy the steady beat of the sun against his exposed skin and the gentle touch of the wind as it brushed through his hair.

He would take a moment to exist.

The sun had begun to lower by the time Remus heard the telltale sound of heavy, booted footsteps approaching from behind. He opened his eyes and stared at the dwindling fire, bidding farewell to his brief stint of isolation. It had been nice while it lasted.

He didn’t move as a large shadow fell over him, blocking out the last dying rays of the sun. There was a movement behind him and then a large hand fell onto his shoulder. He cringed under the touch, but didn’t pull away. Greyback’s hand was too warm against his open skin, like it was leeching the heat from Remus’ body.

“Good to see you up and about, little wolf,” Greyback said. His breath hitting the back of Remus’ neck, somehow more blistering than the flames in front of him. “I was starting to worry about you.”

Remus scoffed, shifting subtly away from Greyback’s touch. Greyback chuckled and tightened his grip. “I was,” he continued. “Wouldn't've left you alone if I didn’t have some important business to take care of.”

“What kind of important business did you need to take care of that made you need to take Geri?” Remus pulled out of Greyback’s hold and stood, turning to face the other man with a glare. “Where is he, anyway?”

Greyback’s yellow eyes were lit up with a sick mirth as he looked at Remus and slowly got to his own feet. He extended his arms on either side of him and shrugged with an innocence that didn’t match his cruel smirk. “Always assuming the worst of me, little wolf. Geri is all safe and sound with Freki now, I just needed him to help me with a little something. Now come on, I need to check your bandages. Don’t want you bleeding out on me.”

Greyback started walking back in the direction of their tent with a slight nod, and Remus knew better than to try to be stubborn. He followed after Greyback with grudging acceptance, careful to keep his distance.

Minutes later they were back in the tent, with Remus perched on the edge of the worn table and Greyback in front of him. Remus tried to stay still as Greyback carefully unwrapped his wounds, but couldn’t stop the small tremors of discomfort that racked him every time the older man’s nails brushed his skin.

As his injuries were exposed to the cool evening air, Remus couldn’t help but take stock of the damage. It wasn’t as bad as he first thought it would be. The bullet wound was a twisted swirl of scarring over his heart. Ugly, but no different from the other markings that littered his body. The worst of the whole mess were the abrasions on his shoulders, still bright red and weeping the occasional drop of blood. Rough, half-healed tracks crawled across his chest and down his back.

Remus flinched as Greyback took a damp cloth and rubbed against the scrapes to wipe the welling blood away. The added pressure sent a stinging pain through his body, but he bit his lip until his eyes watered to avoid making sound.

“Bullet wound healed nicely,” Greyback said, running a thumb across the textured skin. “The rest should be gone in a day or so, now that your body has handled the worst of it.”

Remus shifted away from the touch, staring determinedly at the ground and not responding.

“You’re lucky,” Greyback said as he unwrapped a new roll of bandages. “That silver almost killed you. Wouldn’t let me stop the bleeding until it was out. And right near the heart, too. Any closer and you’d have been dead on the spot.”

It was hard for Remus to feel very lucky at all while he sat in a dirty tent with his kidnapper after being shot, but he kept those thoughts to himself and his focus on the floor.

“You were missed, by the way.”

Remus looked up at those words, brow furrowed. “Missed? By who?”

Greyback grinned at successfully regaining Remus’ attention. He took his time responding as he rewrapped Remus’ chest, making Remus fidget with impatience.

“The little pure-blood boy,” Greyback said with a knowing leer, “Sirius Black.”

Remus had not been expecting that name to be the one that Greyback said. It felt like ages since he had last seen the other boy. He bit his lip in an attempt to keep the words locked inside his skull, but they found a way to slip between his teeth and fall right into Greyback’s lap. “What do you mean he missed me?”

“I had to take your place at the meeting,” Greyback said. “You were still recovering. Should have seen his face when I walked through that door. I’ve never seen one of those stuck up pure blood faces filled with such disappointment.”

Remus felt an unexpected stab of guilt at the mention of him missing the meeting. He didn’t know Sirius that well, or at all, really, but he had in a way made a promise to the other boy that they would see each other again next meeting. Then again, it wasn’t like Remus planned to get shot and be unable to go, so he really shouldn’t be feeling that bad. He couldn’t help but picture, however, the disappointed look on Sirius’ face when Greyback showed up.

“Got all dressed up and everything,” Greyback continued, oblivious to Remus’ inner turmoil or all too aware of it. “Looks like he really wanted to impress you. I was glad I could wipe that smug look off his face for once. But don’t worry, you’ll see him again soon.”

“What?”

Greyback finished and stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Remus hopped down from the table and let out a hiss as his injured legs hit the ground. Taking his upper arm, Greyback lead Remus to one of the nearby couches and sat him down. A moment later, a steel flask was shoved into his hands. Remus unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, grimacing at the taste of too warm whiskey on his tongue but not stopping until he got a good amount. He wiped his mouth and handed the flask back to Greyback, who sipped leisurely while watching Remus arrange himself into a more comfortable position.

“At the party,” Greyback said, kicking his feet onto the couch until they brush against Remus’ side.

Remus couldn’t remember ever hearing Greyback say the word “party” in the years he’d known him. He had to blink a few times to make sure the alcohol hadn’t taken effect faster than expected, and even then he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Party? What party?”

“That rich boy Lucius Malfoy is hosting a little gala for all the Death Eaters.” Greyback shrugged. “Wants to give a good impression to the Dark Lord, I expect. Flash a little money to make up for his lack of action.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“I suppose he felt he needed to invite us lowly werewolves to look good. Bet it took a couple of years off of his life to write me an invitation. And as much as I would love to go to some prissy party and scare a few pure-bloods into soiling their overpriced robes, I have other things that I need to do.”

“So you’re sending me?” Remus said, voice rising without his consent. “Why?”

“So many questions,” Greyback drawled, resting his head against the arm of the couch and closing his eyes. “What ever happened to you being a good boy and doing as I said?”

“I don’t want to go.” Remus stood, dislodging Greyback’s legs in his haste to get off the couch. “There’s no reason I have to. You’ve got plenty of other wolves who could take your place.”

Greyback’s eyes snapped open, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “I don’t need to justify my reasons to you, little wolf. You will go because I tell you to go.”

“I won’t.” Remus could already picture it; him, standing alone in the midst of a sea of pure-blood wizards, startlingly out of place and the focus of all the eyes around him. He did not want to spend hours in a room with people who would sooner see him dead than anywhere near them. “What are you even doing that is preventing you from attending? Going to drag a bunch of children with you on another dangerous task?”

It only took a second, no longer than a blink, for Greyback to be off the couch and in Remus’ face, backing him up against the side of the tent. Any bravery that fueled Remus’ outburst fled under Greyback’s piercing stare.

Greyback grabbed Remus’ face in his hand, pulling him forward until there was no more than a few inches between them and Remus’ feet were just brushing the ground. Greyback’s breath wafted over his face, the smell of meat and blood overtaking his senses. Remus could feel each of Greyback’s nails as they pierced the soft skin of his jaw, serving as a warning to stay still.

“You will go to the party,” Greyback said, in a low voice that never failed to make Remus’ blood run cold. He rubbed his thumb across Remus’ cheek, tracing a path that matched the scar along Geri’s face. “I trust you won’t make me tell you again.”

Remus knew better than to try to close his eyes while Greyback was speaking to him, but the full force of Greyback’s attention and the unspoken threats were almost too much to bear. He settled for moving his gaze to the side, staring blankly over Greyback’s shoulder.

“Yes, Alpha.”

Greyback released his hold on Remus, who stumbled back and away from the other man’s reach. “That wasn’t so hard,” Greyback said, his condescending smile back in place. “It’s in two days, so rest up and regain your energy. Those pure-bloods are like leeches, you’ll need to be ready for them.”

Remus said nothing in response. He turned and went into his section of the tent, pulling the curtain closed behind him, wishing, not for the first time, for a door between him and the rest of the world.

***

As horrible as it was to get shot, Remus would have gladly taken ten more silver bullets to the chest than have to spend one more excruciating second at this suffocating party.

Remus was used to being under constant surveillance living with Greyback and the rest of the pack, but nothing could have prepared him for how the gazes of the pure-blood wizards dragged like slugs across his skin.

He’d only been there for about an hour but he already craved the feel of his lumpy bed back at camp - not a feeling he ever expected to have. Anything sounded more comfortable than being gawked at like he had six limbs.

Although the idea of parties was to socialize, Remus hadn’t bothered to try to speak to a single person. He knew his presence was unwelcome and any attempt at conversation would be met with dismissal, if not outright disgust. Not that Remus really wanted to talk to any of them anyway.

The ballroom, which was lofty and massive, felt terribly claustrophobic due to the sheer amount of snobbery and misplaced self-importance filling the air. Everyone, even the servants, were dressed in the finest, most expensive clothes Remus had ever seen. Robes made of silk and stitched with gold thread, boots of fine leather, jewelry so sparkling it hurt to look at, adorning women and men who looked as if they had never so much as seen a speck of dirt in their entire lives.

And then there was Remus in a sweater so large it hit his knees, covered with moth holes, patches, and fraying threads. Remus was convinced most of the people in the room would sooner eat their own wands than even touch what he was wearing, but it was the nicest thing Remus owned.

He stood out amongst the other party goers like an unpleasant sore and it was never more obvious than when someone walked over to survey the food table Remus had chosen to stand next to. It probably wasn’t the best spot in the party to lay claim to if he wanted to avoid everyone else, but if he was going to be miserable anyway, he decided to be miserable while eating lots of expensive appetizers.

Everytime someone approached, they would treat him like he was simply another piece of furniture and ignore his existence, while also attempting to discreetly look him up and down with troubled expressions. He pretended not to notice, but was only too aware every time it happened.

Remus let out a long suffering sigh and looked down at his empty wine glass. He’d already had two glasses and was debating about whether he needed a third. He wanted one, certainly, but had spent most of the past few minutes weighing the pros and cons of getting drunk in front of a room full of unwelcoming strangers.

Giving into temptation, Remus turned towards the food table and surveyed his wine options. He jumped when he heard a familiar voice close behind him.

“The invitation was only for the guest and a plus one, you know.”

Remus spun around to see Sirius Black standing there, an empty wine glass dangling between his fingers and a cocky smirk on his face.

“What?”

“Your fleas,” Sirius said, a hint of laughter in his voice, gesturing vaguely to Remus’ whole body. “They weren’t invited.”

Although Remus was loathe to admit it, especially after that comment, the other boy looked good. He had a lavish dress robe draped over him, the color of a moonless night. The dress shirt he wore was unbuttoned a few buttons down, exposing a sliver of his chest, noticeably free from tattoos. The vest over top of it was embroidered with shimmering thread and closed with a row of gleaming silver buttons. His pants were form-fitting, hugging his legs like a second skin and were tucked into a pair of knee high, sharp toed boots.

His long hair fell in dark waves around his neck, although if the ribbon tied around his left wrist was any indication, it wasn’t like that when the party started. His facial hair was neat and cut into a different pattern than Remus remembered, framing pink lips stained just slightly with wine. His eyes were accentuated with a touch of dark makeup, causing the gray color to look like liquid metal.

Everywhere Remus glanced he saw a new piece of jewelry, hanging from Sirius’ ears, circling around his wrists, dripping from his fingers, clinging to his throat. He was the very personification of old money and power, and very unlike the boy Remus met only a few weeks prior.

“A shame,” Remus said, turning his attention back to the table and grabbing a random bottle of wine, trying to hide the slight flush on his face. “They’re going to be so disappointed that they got all dressed up for nothing.”

He heard the other boy approach as he was refilling his glass, stopping close enough to lean a hand on the table. This close, Remus could smell Sirius’ thick cologne clinging to the air, the scent of deep woods and leather, but also the heavy scent of alcohol.

“Listen, I’ll let them being here slide. Your secret balant rule-breaking is safe with me, ” Sirius said, sliding in beside Remus to refill his own glass.

Remus looked up at the other boy, one eyebrow raised. “How generous of you,” he said, letting sarcasm color his tone. “How can I ever repay your generosity?”

“Now that you mention it, there is something you can help me with,” Sirius said, and before Remus could protest, he was being pulled along away from the drink table and deeper into the party.

“What are you-”

“Don’t worry about it, just come on.”

Sirius ignored all of Remus’ protests and didn’t stop until they were at the opposite end of the room and away from the other guests. Here, they were in the more hidden parts of the room, next to a tall potted plant which helped to partially obscure them from view.

When they stopped, Remus pulled his arm out of Sirius’ grasp and took a step back, glaring at the other boy. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Calling in that favor,” Sirius said casually, his whole body seeming to unwind as he leaned against the wall behind him. He seemed at once less like an intimidating pure-blood heir and more the boy Remus remembered from their meeting; confident, but tired, with a heavy weight resting on his shoulders.

“And what’s the favor?” Remus asked skeptically, joining Sirius in leaning against the wall. It was much nicer in this part of the room, away from the music and scorching gazes of the guests. He took a sip from his wine glass and surveyed the other boy.

“You keeping me company while I hide from my mother and my fiancée,” Sirius said, and laughed when Remus choked on his wine. He patted Remus on the back a few times while he coughed, face flushed.

Remus pulled away from the other boy’s touch and looked down at his wine glass with a frown and furrowed brows. He felt like a fool. Fiancée. Of course. Sirius was a pure-blood wizard from a wealthy and old family, it wouldn't have been far fetched to suspect he was engaged, if not already married. It didn’t make the nasty twist in Remus’ gut any easier to tolerate, or explain away.

“Why are you hiding from them?”

“I’ve successfully avoided seeing my fiancée for about three years now,” Sirius said. “I consider it something of a record, and I don’t want to break my streak now.”

Remus paused with the wine glass pressed against his lips, and then lowered it to give Sirius a questioning look. “You haven’t seen the girl you are supposed to marry for three years? Aren’t you supposed to want to see your future wife?”

Sirius looked sick at the very idea. “Oh Merlin, no,” Sirius said, shaking his head as if to banish the mental image Remus had summoned. “I’d rather jump over the balcony headfirst than have to speak to that hag.”

Remus let out a snort of laughter. “If she’s so horrible why did you ask her to marry you?”

Sirius chuckled and looked at Remus like he’d gone mad. “I didn’t ask her,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ve been engaged since I was three, before she was even born.”

“Since you were three?”

“Yeah, you know,” Sirius said, flapping his hand in the air, “Pair ‘em up while their young, strengthen those family ties, keep the blood pure. . . all that nonsense. She’s a distant cousin from some part of my family.”

Remus’ expression morphed into one of disgust. “She’s one of your cousins?”

“Oh yeah,” Sirius said. “Do you know how few actual pure-bloods there are? You have to keep it in the family or else the blood gets ‘tainted.’” Sirius mimed the air quotes and rolled his eyes.

“Well, inbreeding certainly does explain a lot of things,” Remus said, taking a sip of his wine.

“Like my devilishly good looks?” Sirius said, flexing his arms and shooting Remus a smirk.

The statement combined with the ridiculous pose was too much and Remus couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him. “Sure, we’ll go with that,” he said, feeling lighter than he had just moments before, like a coiled spring allowed to finally relax.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment and Remus found himself for the first time feeling completely separated from the rest of the room, as if he and Sirius existed in their own universe that no one else could enter. Isolation had never felt so freeing.

“Anyway,” Sirius said, picking up the conversation once again. “Even if she wasn’t my cousin, she’s just a horrible person. Snotty, self-obsessed, and completely out of it. You should read the letters she writes to me, absolutely horrible.” Sirius gave Remus a once over and a confident smile. “You are much better company.”

“I don’t know if being better company than your snotty cousin fiancée who you barely know is really a compliment, but I’ll take it,” Remus said.

“Although my cousin does have one thing over you,” Sirius said.

“Oh?”

“When she says she is going to be somewhere, she keeps that promise,” Sirius said, downing the rest of his wine and looking at the glass, as if he wasn’t waiting for Remus’ reaction. “Whether I like it or not.”  
Remus cocked his head to the side, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I distinctly remember a promise you made the last time we saw each other,” Sirius said casually, though Remus could hear a hint of resentment creeping into his tone.

Remus racked his brain, trying to remember anything from the last time he had seen Sirius. Although the meeting itself hadn’t been that long ago, it felt like a lifetime had passed. “What promise?”

“That you were going to come back for the next meeting,” Sirius said, and he sounded so much like a pouting child Remus couldn’t stifle the laugh that escaped him.

“You’re upset that I missed the last meeting?” Remus said. “I never made a promise that I would be there.”

“Yes, you did. I distinctly remember this.”

“Did not.”

“Did.”

“I never said the word promise,” Remus said, amused.

“Okay,” Sirius said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Maybe you never said that exact word, but it was heavily implied.”

“Well, I’m sorry you were so disappointed by my absence,” Remus said, and maybe the alcohol was starting to have an effect because he was in a much more teasing mood than usual. “Greyback did mention that you missed me.”

Sirius’ reaction was priceless as he spluttered and his face flushed a light red. It was fun to watch the other boy get so flustered. While talking to Sirius had been fun during the last meeting, there had still been a stiffness in their interaction. It seems alcohol and boredom were the ingredients required to strip away that tension.

“I didn’t miss you,” Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at the ground. “I just didn’t want to have to see Greyback’s ugly face again.”

“Well I can understand that feeling,” Remus said, his mood souring slightly as he remembered he would have to return to the camp after the party was over; back to his stiff cot, his dirty clothes, and Greyback’s constant looming presence.

“So not that I care,” Sirius said, looking very much like he cared, “but why didn’t you come to the last meeting? Greyback change his mind?”

Remus played around with the idea of lying to Sirius. He could easily come up with any number of excuses. He didn’t owe the other boy the truth, or even anything close to it.

“I got shot,” he said, shrugging, and then laughed at Sirius’ startled expression.

Sirius shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “Wait, hold on, what,” he said, looking at Remus with wide eyes. “Like with a gun?”

“Are there other ways to get shot?” Remus said coyly, raising an eyebrow.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sirius said, putting both of his hands in front of him in a ‘hold on’ motion. “You can’t just casually say that like it’s nothing.”

“You wanted to know why I missed the meeting, so I answered,” Remus said, taking secret joy in how much he had managed to surprise the other boy. “Does that give me a pass on not showing up?”

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean,” Sirius said, stumbling over his words before he stopped to take a breath. He leaned in closer to Remus, eyes alight with excitement and curiosity. “Okay, yes, technically getting shot gives you a pass, but,” Sirius poked Remus in the chest and smirked, “I want to hear everything. When did it happen? Where? Did it hurt? Can I see-”

A loud but even tempered voice cut drowned out Sirius’ words. “Sirius Orion, where have you gone off to now?”

Sirius yanked his hand back from Remus’ chest so fast he stumbled backwards and whipped his head around to where the voice had come from.

Remus jumped at the suddenness of the movement, and looked in the direction Sirius had turned. Remus may have never seen Sirius’ mother, but he recognized the woman standing a decent distance away without effort. Her and Sirius had the same thick black hair, sharp noses, and intense gray eyes, although hers looked like they could cut through solid stone. She wore a loose fitting black dress that feel to her ankles, with a high collar and intricate lace. Her hair was pulled back into a severe black bun and her makeup made her look like a corpse brought back to life.

Next to her was a girl who looked to be in her teens, with her brown hair falling in loose curls around her head. She had on a bright red lipstick and a thick, diamond encrusted necklace laying against her chest. Her head was whipping back and forth at an alarming rate, scanning the occupants of the room with a crazed intensity.  
The plant they were behind offered them a bit of protection, but it would be only a matter of time before they were discovered. Remus turned his attention back to Sirius, who he could tell had come to a similar conclusion.

“Shit,” Sirius said, balling his hands into fists at his sides. He looked up at Remus, light-hearted expression gone and replaced by one of mounting dread.

Remus could feel the other boy’s disappointment like a physical blow to the chest. The seed of bitterness always present in Remu’s chest bollousmed out, souring his mood. For just once he had been hoping the world might take pity on him and allow him this moment of freedom, but of course, like everything else, it was going to be yanked away. He felt stupidly upset about the whole thing, and turned his head away. Their carefully crafted bubble had been popped and the real world was spilling back in, drowning them both.

For a tense moment, neither of them spoke, as if acknowledging the problem would make it suddenly more real. Remus felt a sudden weight on his shoulder and looked up to see Sirius glancing quickly over his shoulder, and then back at Remus. “Unfortunately that’s my que to leave,” Sirius said. He sounded upset, but he gave Remus a small smile and pulled him in closer. Remus felt a hand touch his pant pocket and slid something inside, but before he could ask about it, Sirius kept talking. “But don’t think you’ll get away with not finishing this conversation, I want to know everything.”

Sirius pulled back, gave Remus a quick once over, and then nodded. “I’ll see you around,” Sirius said, and then walked away towards his mother and what Remus assumed to be his fiancée. They were too far away for Remus to hear much, but the second the girl spotted Sirius she ran at him and pulled him against her, smothering him against her neck.

Remus looked away, frowning, and reached into his pocket to distract himself from the scene. Sirius had slipped him a folded up piece of parchment. Remus re-situated himself more comfortably against the wall and shook out the note to read it:

_You’re not so bad, for a werewolf. What would you say to you, me, Diagon Alley sometime? I’ll buy you some nicer clothes and maybe lunch or something, who knows. Send me an owl at 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, England. I look forward to your answer._

_Sirius Black_

Unconsciously, Remus smiled, and slid the parchment back into his pocket for safekeeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more content from this AU, check out my tiktok account PadfootsRose and the hashtag #BlackMoonAu to see the cosplays @cornerghost and I did for this fic!


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